


help! i've been bitten by a (radioactive) lovebug

by perfunit



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Fluff, Friendship/Love, High School, M/M, Pining, Slow Burn, nerd bffs soonwoo, seokmin is a theater kid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-16 02:39:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11244630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfunit/pseuds/perfunit
Summary: Maybe the homicidal felon is right. Soonyoung has bigger problems. He has a city to save, and he’s having boy problems?





	help! i've been bitten by a (radioactive) lovebug

**Author's Note:**

> \- reposted because my computer is acting up :'(
> 
> \- unbeta'd. sorry for any mistakes!
> 
> \- this wasn't supposed to be this long at all haha i have never written past 3k in my life... but i am long-winded and got carried away with the whole superhero thing omg i'm sorry for this mess
> 
> \- you don't have to have watched/read spider-man to understand!! anyway i changed a lot of the canon for my own convenience lol 
> 
> \- i hope you guys like it!! ;;

In retrospect, things could have gone a lot worse.

Soonyoung could be failing his Calc class, or he could have been taken by Wonwoo as a plus one to deflect conversation and use as a buffer at one of those official rich people gatherings where they talk about… cheeses? Or something.

Bleeding out in the dumpster, limbs excruciatingly locked in place, a block or two away from Lee Seokmin’s house? It’s not so bad. You should see the other guy.

(The other guy is incapacitated, if you wanted to know, and is, first of all, a mutated lizard. If Soonyoung’s estimation is right, Lizard Dude is about to be taken to super-jail any moment now by the NYPD— with whom he has this complicated love-hate relationship with, by the way. It’s whatever; S.H.I.E.L.D will take custody eventually.)

 “Shit,” hisses Soonyoung, jarred by the sharp stinging from the fresh cuts on his side. He _attempts_ to move— to maneuver himself in a way so that he’s only straining the parts of him that _don’t_ hurt. Except, you know, _all_ parts of him hurt right now. It was a bad fall, alright? He regenerates, sure, but he's not like, _invulnerable_.

He hoists a leg over the edge of the bin, his other knee digging into something gross. That _squish_ he hears is an obnoxious, tell-tale sound.

“God, fuck. Shit.” He mumbles under his breath, very intelligently.

At times like these, he wishes he’d taken Wonwoo’s offer to be his sidekick. It’s difficult and not to mention awfully lonely to do things like _swim in garbage_ alone. (“I didn’t say sidekick.” He already hears Wonwoo protest. “I said _partners_ , screw you.”)

Soonyoung momentarily loses balance, clumsy and sluggish; a side-effect of his face becoming best friends with super villain fists. He’s hanging on by a finger or two when—

_Crash._

Soonyoung falls a second time— but at least this time it isn’t from the top of a building, or toward a wall via disgusting giant lizard tail. His body comes into contact with hard, rough, concrete all the same, though. "Ow." He grits out. "Ow, ow, ow, ow, _ow."_

He bites on his split lip, barely able to keep himself from being loud about all the pain.

Soonyoung sort of just lays there for a while, as if it's as comfortable as a fucking cloud on the pavement. Wolverine and Deadpool get entire body parts cut off with little concern on their part, so perhaps Soonyoung's pain tolerance isn't as good as he originally thought it was, even after the tenth beat-up this week. How do they do it?

At this rate, Soonyoung would _never_ be able to join the Avengers. Which sucks, because it’s been a childhood dream of his. Even before the radioactive spider bite.

He doesn’t remember how ten year-old Soonyoung supposed to join the Avengers then, having had no superpowers and all. A black belt in Taekwondo doesn’t seem like much of a ticket in, when you’ve already got a Norse god in the team.

Ah, well. There's been worse days.

With the sky getting increasingly darker and the city lights blinking open against it in a sequence much like a domino effect, he rids himself of all his internal monologue— the same ones that would come up in those little white boxes on top of panels if this were a comic. Alas, the life of a superhero isn't as glamorous or as fulfilling as it's made out to be.

Soonyoung finally pulls himself up, regenerative health and all slowly working its magic on his body; he’s practically good as new (except not really, says all the blood in his suit and the gunk in his hair). He aims, his trusty web shoots up to the top of an office block, and Soonyoung is then disappearing into the good ol' NYC skyline.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Soonyoung passes out the moment he cleans himself up and tosses his battered suit hidden deep under all his other laundry, and doesn’t wake up until the fifth missed phone call from Seokmin, and one characteristically vague text from Wonwoo the next day. Soonyoung gets to school at around lunch time, with barely anything in his stomach.

He’s lining up with an empty tray in his grasp, and it’s _concerning_ how appealing the grey goopy cafeteria food looks to him right now. He’s staring longingly behind the glass at the promise of any sort of sustenance, when he feels tap on his shoulder.

Soonyoung instantly makes a mangled yelping noise, dropping his tray as he swiftly turns around in a defensive stance—

 Which makes the stranger yelp back at him.

“Shit! What the hell, Soonyoung!” Wonwoo jumps, surprised.

It’s just Wonwoo. Soonyoung’s shoulders sag.

“Don’t sneak up on me,” says Soonyoung, picking his tray up from the floor. His voice lowers. “You know I have…” Soonyoung just tilts his head to make his point, purposely leaving the sentence unfinished.

“Spideysense?” Wonwoo finishes anyway. It sounds stupid out loud. Soonyoung loudly shushes him.

“Well, I wasn’t sneaking up on you.” Wonwoo rolls his eyes. The guy who averted Sandman’s grand scheme of swallowing NYC whole in sand some months ago, and the guy who gets startled by a tiny tap on the shoulder? Yeah, same guy. Disappointed? Too bad. This is reality.

The line begins to move forward, finally, and Wonwoo stays with Soonyoung all the way until the end of it. He doesn’t get a tray of his own; just reaches around Soonyoung to take a carton of orange juice from the cooler. The two head for a free table, navigating around the colorful (read: _tiring_ ) high school personalities coming up in little circles and cliques and crowds. Soonyoung slips onto a bench and sets his tray down, sticking a fork into the weird mass of food in front of him the moment he’s seated— it’s frightening how deceptively _firm_ it is, but Soonyoung doesn’t care; he shoves it in his mouth with not one complaint.

“I saw the news—” Wonwoo begins, seating himself across Soonyoung. He doesn’t look up at Soonyoung’s face until after a beat, and when he does, he’s actually _seeing_ Soonyoung for real for the first time today: he sees that under the shadows from Soonyoung’s hoodie and beanie, is a patch of discolored skin around his left eye. “—dude, _holy shit_ , what happened?”

Soonyoung coolly ignores Wonwoo’s alarm. “The news? Was I badass?”

“What?” Wonwoo utters, eyebrows furrowed. The question doesn’t register at first; Wonwoo’s still too caught up with the fucked upedness of Soonyoung’s general facial… region. “Oh, the news? NYPD is trying to hide the fact that the lizard guy is even real. On the news, Spider-man essentially just messed around in the Brooklyn area. So, were you badass? Not really.”

Today’s paper materializes from Wonwoo’s jacket, and he casually slides it across the table. Spidey’s made the headline. He’s even got a picture.

Soonyoung doesn’t even want to read it or see it.

This _sucks._ Soonyoung doesn’t long for recognition or whatever, not _much_ anyway, but he puts his ass on the line out there and _this_ is what he gets? Superheroing is a thankless job, folks, don’t ever consider it. Soonyoung wants to cry. Just a little bit.

“You look like crap.” Wonwoo says in place of words of comfort, sounding amazed.

“Thanks.” Soonyoung replies, miserably. He goes back to his food, swirling the jelly-like substance on his plate, dejected.

“Did he get away, though?”

“Nah, S.H.I.E.L.D definitely have him in high security lockdown by now.” Soonyoung replies. He’s reminded of an encounter with one of those S.H.I.E.L.D agents, and those guys are… Meticulous, to say the least. They also have pretty good suits. Which gives Soonyoung an idea. “Hey, can you look over my suit again? I’ll drop by later.”

“Don’t worry, I'm sure your cross stitch is wonderful, sweetie.” Wonwoo deadpans.

To this, Soonyoung bats his eyelashes, holding his clasped hands to his face. Wonwoo thinks it was intended to be cute, but Soonyoung’s eye is so swollen he can hardly even see it, so no, it’s not that cute. Reminds Wonwoo more of the hamster he owned that’d been rescued from the streets when he was six. The hamster—Mr. Fluffyball—ate his own children.

“You think so?” Soonyoung asks, his voice an octave higher. Wonwoo doesn’t humor him with a similar response; that’s what Seokmin is for.

Soonyoung sighs, defeated, and lets his hands fall back on his lap. “No, seriously, _please_. It’s all ruined and I can’t quite get it to be as durable I want it to be. Think: S.H.I.E.L.D agent suit.”

Wonwoo scoffs. “We can do better than that.”

“That’s what I like to hear! Though all I really need is for it to… rip less.”

“Without forsaking the form fitting nature of the suit, I’m guessing.” Wonwoo points at the flattering picture of Spider-man—featuring his “cute butt,” which Spidey is _very_ proud of—on the paper Soonyoung had long pushed aside.

Soonyoung grins, shaking in aborted laughter. “You know I love the form fitting nature...ness.”

“Fine, drop it off later. I’ll see what I can do with its— _I’m pretty sure_ —dilapidated condition.” His best friend concedes. Wonwoo is willing to admit he likes helping Soonyoung with his tech, though. The suit is another thing that’s going to be made better by Wonwoo’s genius. The first was the web shooters.

The thing is, even with all the resources at his disposal, he doesn’t even need to exhaust tools and facilities at the company (Jeon Wonwoo, eldest son and heir of _JeonCorp_ — let’s get it out of the way here). Soonyoung’s pretty smart, too, sure— he could top the school if he perhaps studied a bit more diligently (or… at all, sometimes), but as it is he’s usually second to Wonwoo. Besides, Soonyoung’s heavier on the theories. Wonwoo can deal with theories _and_ application. Also, JeonCorp is a thing. Which is exactly why Soonyoung needs him.

Given all this, of _course_ Soonyoung is about to get all celebratory about Wonwoo saying yes, but something twists in Wonwoo’s expression: his eyebrows furrow, and he’s looking at Soonyoung like a disappointed owner to his reckless little pet would.

Soonyoung wishes it wouldn’t come. And for a second or two, Wonwoo looks like he’s about to save it for another time, and Soonyoung was really fucking _banking_ on that.

It comes, anyway, regardless of what Soonyoung wished for: “Can you be careful once in a while or something?”

“I’m always careful.” Soonyoung promptly replies. Almost like he’s been expecting it (which he _has_ — it’s been a long time coming, he supposes) and that he’s rehearsed it, even though a part of him is aware that his claim is sorely untrue. “Aw, you gonna be disappointed if I get hurt or something?”

“I guess.” Wonwoo frowns. God, is it _so_ unbelievably hard to get through to Soonyoung sometimes. He knows _when_ to be serious, Wonwoo is sure. He just makes conscious decision _not_ to be— chooses to deflect, laugh things off, hide behind banter, and all those trademark Soonyoung Emotional Constipation symptoms.

True to Soonyoung fashion, he had not stopped stuffing his face with the disgusting cafeteria food. Wonwoo sighs through his nose.

Like a beacon of light shining upon this hopeless situation, really, he catches sight of a familiar figure entering the hall—one that was always, _always_ surrounded by combinations and permutations of people who, in contrast, were never familiar at all. He hears a distant ring of hearty laughter, and he takes it as a cue to drop the issue like he’s learned to do with most of the things between him and Soonyoung. But not without getting a final word in. Which he’s _also_ developed a knack for throughout the years.

“Sure, I’d get disappointed,” says Wonwoo, his eyes then leaving Soonyoung, as the crowd disperses and said familiar figure approaches. “But _someone_ would lose their mind.” He tells Soonyoung, cryptic, voice quiet. Soonyoung is barely given a moment to be confused.

“Hi, Seokmin.” And just like that, Wonwoo has departed his conversation with Soonyoung. If you could even call it a conversation.

Wonwoo quirks his lips up at the space over Soonyoung’s shoulders. Soonyoung notes that, and he quickly turns around, admittedly eager at the prospect of Seokmin’s presence. He meets Seokmin’s toothy grin like he expects to, yes, but not for long, because the smile on Seokmin’s face soon falls. Seokmin panics.

“Oh my god, what _happened_?” He squeaks.

Seokmin sets his tray down next to Soonyoung’s, staring down at Soonyoung all the while. Soonyoung doesn’t get it, at first.

“He’s talking about your _face_.” Wonwoo clarifies _for_ Seokmin.

“Oh.”

“Did you get into a fight?” Seokmin asks, now seated next to Soonyoung. His touch is gentle when it comes in contact with Soonyoung’s face. He tilts his chin to an angle where he can really _see_ , since Soonyoung (maybe subconsciously, maybe on purpose, who knows?) had begun to hide it. Soonyoung flinches at Seokmin’s fingers on his cheek, but not because it feels painful. 

“Shit, sorry. Does it still hurt?” Seokmin asks, apologetic. Soonyoung shakes his head ‘no.’ It no longer hurts; it just doesn’t look… great, that’s all. Seokmin still removes his hand from Soonyoung’s face all the same, though.

“So that’s why you weren’t at school all morning.” Seokmin’s eyes are still glued to the purplish skin Soonyoung’s cheek is sporting. “ _Christ_. Then you really should have just… stayed home.”

And Wonwoo fucking _laughs_. Wonwoo can’t help it. Seokmin could have worded that better.

Soonyoung pouts. “Real encouraging.” He says. “Thanks, Seokmin.”

Seokmin nudges his shoulders to Soonyoung’s, an attempt to appease a pouty Soonyoung. “Hey, you know what I meant. I meant to get rest and all that.” Seokmin starts digging into his grey goop, too, and just as Soonyoung thinks he’s gotten away with not answering, Seokmin nonchalantly asks him what happened _again._

Soonyoung’s gotten used to this. _This_ , being, lying to Seokmin. Honestly, it upsets him. The fact that it’s become so second nature to keep Seokmin in the dark like that. He’s had to make shit up for cancelled plans and broken promises several times before.

When Doc Ock wreaked havoc on Times Square and Soonyoung left Wonwoo and Seokmin to do movie night by themselves, for example. There was also the time Soonyoung showed up late to Seokmin’s show, with a stray feather or two on his rumpled suit (as a result of— _yes_ , you’ve guessed it, a timely scuffle with Vulture).

“Uh. Well. Someone called me a nerd.” Soonyoung replies.

“Nerdface.” Wonwoo “corrects” him. “He called you _nerdface_ , Soonyoung.” Wonwoo turns to Seokmin to say: “I was there.”

To accuse Wonwoo of lying would be hypocritical, so he lets him be. Soonyoung continues, “Okay, so he called me _nerdface_. Apparently. Then I… punched him? I was cranky, alright, finals season and all. Anyways, he punched back and stuff and then someone pulled us off each other. That’s it, I think.”

Soonyoung has grown into somewhat of an impulsive liar, but if anything, the ridiculousness pulls laughter out of Seokmin, and that’s kind of _nice_. Well, Wonwoo laughs too, but not because he finds the story funny. Rather, he finds the overall situation Soonyoung is in funny.

“Alright, laugh it off. My life is a comedy.”

“Sorry.” Seokmin says to Soonyoung, sheepishly, but still smiling with his teeth. “So, what’s up? Other than Soonyoung getting into his first real fight?”

The fight was first of all _not even real_ , and second of all not at all Soonyoung’s first, but Seokmin doesn’t know any better.

“We were talking about Spider-man.” Wonwoo replies, lips around the straw of his juice carton. Soonyoung wants to die.

Seokmin, however, perks up at the mention of the S-word. His eyes go wide, his voice teeming with excitement. _It makes Soonyoung want to **die**_. Wonwoo, on the other hand, is living.

“He defeated lizard guy!” Seokmin leans forward, the table shaking slightly as a result of the sudden motion. It startles neither his friends, though. His friends, whom he was hell-bent on convincing of the truth. And they didn’t need convincing; they did know it to be the truth, but Seokmin doesn’t know they know. “It happened near my street! I _saw_ it! Well, kind of. I was barely awake. But it definitely happened, okay. Saw it through my window.”

Wonwoo only shrugs. “According to the news, the lizard dude is a hoax, and Spider-man just likes to disturb public peace.”

“According to the news, _everything_ is a hoax. They’re trying to cover everything up!” Seokmin apparently _cannot_ believe Wonwoo would even give credence to a claim like that. He seems to be sincerely scandalized by Wonwoo’s suspicions of Spider-man, which were, in contrast, not that sincere. Wonwoo’s nose crinkles in a muted little chuckle—a kind of response to how amusingly wide Seokmin’s eyes are getting.

“I don’t get how they can still do that since the Avengers drag their intergalactic drama here all the time. S.H.I.E.L.D and whatever other super-secret agencies exist are obviously at work here.” Soonyoung murmurs, managing to sound bitter in all his childish pouty incoherence— and he is actually bitter, for a multitude of reasons. One of them is that the Avengers get away with much, _much_ bigger, and **_way_** more dangerous things than the shit he pulls, and another is still about the resentment he feels towards the fact he still isn’t—apparently—qualified to be an Avenger.

Now, Wonwoo doesn’t necessarily agree with the sentiments he’s voicing out, but it’s certainly fun to hear Seokmin go off and to see Soonyoung squirm. “Who cares? The Avengers aren’t that great either. Do you know how much funds go into infrastructure restoration? _A lot_.”

“No one likes it when you do that.” Soonyoung interrupts.

“Do what?”

“Be a smartass.”

Wonwoo completely glosses over it. “Anyway, I can concede that they’re trying to ‘save us’ at least. This spider wannabe vigilante? He’s just stirring up mass hysteria over some alleged lizard dude no one except Seokmin’s even heard of.”

“Did you hear about the Inhumans?”

Wonwoo blinks at Seokmin. He’s not sure how this factors into the discussion.

“No?” Seokmin presses.

Wonwoo shakes his head slowly. At the slightest tip of his head, though, Seokmin is already pointing at him, posture resembling victory. “ _See!_ And why would you even believe all that, anyway? He’s a _hero_!”

It’s indeed a bit comical— the way Seokmin is so unbelievably pumped and optimistic about this vague idea of Spider-man, without even knowing the guy. It’s just _so_ Seokmin. That intrinsic trust he has for anyone, and that ability to see good in all people, yadda yadda. Seokmin stuff.

Having been talked about so openly without _technically_ actually being talked about like this, Soonyoung ends up feeling his ears warm up. He hasn’t been able to properly interject the conversation since they breached the topic, either. It’s astonishing how Seokmin has yet to notice how Soonyoung stiffly quiets when they talk about the godforsaken S-word.

Wonwoo notices because _of course_ he does; it’s what he wanted. His lips upturn ever-so-slightly, pointedly glancing at Soonyoung once over. “I don’t know, Seokmin, doesn’t Spider-man kind of just… seem like a creep to you?”

Soonyoung’s jaw slackens in disbelief. No, in _offense._ He makes a face, mouthing ‘what the _fuck_ ’ at Wonwoo.

Predictably, Seokmin goes on to defend the wall crawler and raise his name up from the dirt some evil mass media practitioners and—recent discussions would reveal—Jeon Wonwoo are trying to drag it through.

Listening to Seokmin makes Soonyoung feel so _small_. He can’t fathom how he and Spider-man are one, just by hearing the things Seokmin says. How can Soonyoung possibly even warrant this kind of amazement from people like Lee Seokmin?

Well, okay, it’s not _him_ as in Kwon Soonyoung, lower-middle class ‘nerdface’ with exactly two real friends, so much as it is **_the_** friendly neighborhood Spider-man—but he’ll fucking take it.

With every sparkly-eyed gush from Seokmin, however, comes a half-assed rebuttal offered by Wonwoo. Soonyoung kicks one of his weak ass stick legs under the table each time. Or tries to.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Three things:

  1. Kwon Soonyoung is Spider-man, and is a pathetic pining loser.
  2. Jeon Wonwoo knows Soonyoung is Spider-man, and that he has been a pathetic pining loser for a close mutual friend for what seems like literal _ages_.
  3. Lee Seokmin—the close mutual friend— knows neither thing. Typical.



And here’s how Wonwoo found about both things. (Keep in mind that both situations are hardly exciting— nothing like the comic books at all. They can’t ever be, Soonyoung guesses, if your best friend is Jeon Wonwoo.)

Both times have a general theme to them. A pattern, if you will. The pattern is that Soonyoung _doesn’t_ have to tell Wonwoo ever— Soonyoung just does a piss poor job of hiding these things. At least to Wonwoo.

Soonyoung discovers his superpowers this way:

After coming home from a field trip at one of the new research facilities specializing in messing with genetics, as most research facilities of this day, age, universe, and timeline often do (why do you think all the superheroes and super villains alike sprout from New York, specifically?), Soonyoung almost _passes out._

It was a grueling experience for a while, having had no time to acclimate to the hyperawareness. That was _definitely_ the worst part. The heightened senses drove him insane on the daily before he got used to them. He’d always be screaming at a trashcan or a small mouse or a leaf, ever on high-alert, always combat-ready.

The webs, though? Those were always cool.

Soonyoung gets accustomed to aiming webs pretty quickly and by the second day, he’d already been using them to avoid standing up to get stuff. Climbing up vertical surfaces and ceilings— it came as a thrill to Soonyoung, too.

One night, clad in Seokmin’s hoodie Soonyoung has never bothered to return (it’s a hoodie he borrowed ages ago; it said ‘24601’ on the front, a reference to one of those musicals Seokmin liked, and smelled like vanilla fabric softener— it long had stopped smelling like Seokmin), Soonyoung went building to building, the lightest on his feet he’s ever been, swinging breezily stories above ground, seeing the city lights in their entirety for the first time in his seventeen years in the Big Apple.

Wonwoo discovers Soonyoung’s superpowers this way:

Wonwoo visits Soonyoung, politely greets Soonyoung’s sweet aunt in Korean, and (he knocked before entering, no matter what version of the story Soonyoung chooses to use in arguments) steps into Soonyoung’s messy room. Wonwoo notices the manic look in Soonyoung’s eyes before he notices: 1.) the line of webbing stuck to the doorframe, missing him by a hairline, 2.) the ugly red suit bunched around Soonyoung’s ankles, and 3.) the embarrassing Captain America boxers.

“You’re the Spider-boy?” Wonwoo says after a beat, a bit too calm for Soonyoung’s tastes. Soonyoung is _way_ more shocked and devastated by the revelation. The secret is out. No use in hiding now. Not even his undies are spared from sight.

“Spider- _man_.” Soonyoung only replies, feeling like crying.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Now, the pathetic pining loser thing. That— that took quite a _while_ for Wonwoo to notice, let alone for Soonyoung to realize himself.

Soonyoung and Wonwoo are essentially childhood friends, but they met Seokmin upon entering middle school. Soonyoung and Seokmin were close friends before Seokmin and Wonwoo were. Though, there was never an issue— the guy was so _easy_ to like.

So, so easy to like.

Naturally, a lot of it was chalked up to that. By Soonyoung, mostly.

And Wonwoo could have chalked it up to that, too. In an alternate reality where Wonwoo is absolutely stupid, that is. Like previously stated, it happened to be an anticlimactic reveal. Casual—almost even _comfortable_ —if Soonyoung didn’t feel so messed up and conflicted inside all throughout it.

Soonyoung was in Wonwoo’s study, working on their science fair project drafts. Wonwoo listens to Soonyoung end a call with Seokmin, his pen tapping away at the edge of his desk. It’s quiet for a while after the line cuts, and Wonwoo gathers years-worth of courage (because Soonyoung stubbornly won’t) to finally bring something into the light.

“You like him.” Wonwoo says, plainly.

It tips the balance.

 _Everything_ goes off-center. As expected. It shatters a metaphorical glass between them that they both could see _always_ through, but had just assumed was opaque for the other.

“What?” Soonyoung isn’t _surprised_ , but finds that he doesn’t know how to react nonetheless. He doesn’t even think to deny it. He acts ahead of sorting the clutter in his mind. “How— when did you know?”

Wonwoo looks thoughtful. Then, “ _Singin’ in the Rain.”_

Singin’ in the Rain.

_Of course._

It was the first time either of them had seen Seokmin perform. It was a budget high school version of the Gene Kelly classic, granted, with a sad-looking set piece or two made of recycled cardboard and all, but Seokmin was _phenomenal_. Soonyoung remembers that day vividly.

He remembers Seokmin’s performance— the nuances to his portrayal, the passion in his expressions, and his _voice,_ his amazing voice. He can’t forget, having even seated next to Wonwoo in the front row as per Seokmin’s request.

He remembers post-play, too: Wonwoo getting driven off in his dad’s shiny new Ferrari, the rain suddenly coming in a harsh downpour just as Seokmin and Soonyoung had planned to leave. He remembers the cheap bouquet he’d gotten for Seokmin (because friends do that for friends sometimes) and how it almost got ruined in the rain. How Seokmin walked him home. How ‘Singin’ in the Rain’ became less of a musical’s title and more Soonyoung and Seokmin’s reality as they navigated the drenched city in the night.

Soonyoung purses his lips. Then he gives a quiet, colorless laugh. “That was so long ago.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Things have been hectic with the Jeons this October. City-wide JeonCorp malfunctions have been happening with suspiciously heightened frequency, and while the threat doesn’t seem too imminent—at least economically—Wonwoo’s father specifically had gone to lengths to ensure JeonCorp doesn’t have to shut down upon further notice. The Jeons (Wonwoo included) are scheduled to go on an impromptu Berlin trip the middle of next week to meet with their top investors. Luckily, Wonwoo’s finished working on the suit way before then, and Soonyoung’s taking it out for a spin. At least, that’s _all_ he meant to do.

(Note: all plans by Kwon Soonyoung inevitably get ruined one way or another.)

He’s currently perched atop a terrace of a condominium across a 7/11—and he _swears_ he didn’t follow him, this is a _coincidence_ —but Seokmin emerges from the convenience store doors, far too thinly dressed for the weather. It shows, because the moment he steps out, he’s crunched into himself and managing small steps down the sidewalk.

Soonyoung shakes his head, smiling behind the mask. Obviously, Seokmin is bound to have more clothes and—as it turns out—subpar decision-making skills, but Soonyoung still really ought to return that hoodie of his sometime. Though if Seokmin were to fine for overdue borrowing like the library did, Soonyoung’s broke ass would have to shell out an exorbitant amount of money, what with him basically owning that thing for _years_. Good thing Seokmin wouldn’t, and Soonyoung is likely to forget to return it forever, anyway.

A man follows suit, exiting the 7/11, hands in his jacket pockets and what looks to be greasy hair tucked in a beanie. He literally could _not_ look any more suspicious; it’s almost pathetic. This is standard mugger stuff that Soonyoung’s seen so many times before. He’s walking the same direction Seokmin is. And from the looks of it—Soonyoung watches a couple others take the stranger’s lead—he’s not alone. Soonyoung’s blood runs cold.

There’s a glint Soonyoung’s eyes pick up on from a distance as the stranger begins pulling a hand out from his pocket. Soonyoung doesn’t have to wonder what it is. He acts before thinking, some weird unshakeable instinct taking hold of him— before he knows it, he’s on the ground, shielding Seokmin from the thugs. He takes a confident step forward, and they take two shaky ones back.

In the span of just seconds, the other two’s hands get webbed together and are desperately negotiating escape with their legs that were unfortunately for them, rendered immobile by fear. The one with the knife thrashes like a baby first, though, perhaps entertaining a sad hope in his head that he can take on Soonyoung. That seems reasonable; after all, everyone gets braver behind a weapon, Soonyoung is a bit smaller than even Seokmin who he’s supposed to be protecting, and everyone knows Spider-man is more boy than man.

That usually lulls jackasses like these into a false sense of security since none of them ever realize that—blame his fucked up super-genetics for this one—Soonyoung is impossibly stronger than them. He has little to no problem knocking him out. The dude is both clumsy and relentless, however, and Soonyoung gets scratches on his face from the blade in the stranger’s hand to show for it.

Seeing their alpha out cold on the pavement, the rest—to no one’s surprise; this is usually how these things end on a good day—flee.

As the crooks stumble over their feet to disappear into the next street, Soonyoung turns back at Seokmin to check if he was alright. Soonyoung almost sighs in relief upon seeing that he is, in fact, untouched and unharmed, and is just… gaping at him.

 “ _Spider-man_ ,” says Seokmin, stunned.

Now, Soonyoung knows better than to speak in reply. Seokmin knows his voice very well. It’s a dead giveaway. Seokmin proceeds to thank him, his head still not quite wrapped around what just happened and what he’s seeing and who he’s talking to— it’s evident in his face. Soonyoung just gives a soundless salute, and swings right out of there.

(“Right out of there” means a reasonable distance from Seokmin, watching from above to ensure Seokmin arrives home safe. It’s only when he clearly sees Seokmin shut the door behind him that Soonyoung feels it’s okay to leave.)

Soonyoung comes back to his own home and shrugs his suit off ungracefully the moment he’s in the comfort of his room. The cloth gets annoyingly stuck at his foot. Look, it’s a _tight_ suit, okay? When it’s all off, he takes a moment to grimace at the small openings on his mask lovingly made by the ruffian who went after Seokmin.

He slips a shirt on, pants be damned, and rolls his chair over to his cluttered desk. He shoots Wonwoo a text.

 

To: wonu  
From: Me

Hey when r u boarding again ?? the suits ok but some thug still got me so I dunno.. :-(

 

He sets his phone down, almost certain that Wonwoo is asleep or hyper focused on some video game or something. He is mistaken— his phone vibrates and lights up immediately. A pleasant surprise.

 

To: Me  
From: wonu

the flight’s tomorrow night. don’t worry, i can fix it before then

 

The text is punctuated with the sparkles emoji. Soonyoung goes ‘yay!’ in his head after reading, and kind of in real life, too. He receives another text right after, though.

 

To: Me  
From: wonu

btw the antigone paper is due tomorrow, i’m sure you know :)

 

And of course, our dear hero **_didn’t_** know.

“Shit,” utters Soonyoung into the silence of his room, with no one to hold his hand or sympathize or even berate him for his chronic forgetfulness. He’s then all but scrambling around his room, pulling out messy piles of papers from even messier piles of papers. He starts up his busted laptop, too, and he fucking prays to all the gods up there in Valhalla or wherever else that after the slow caveman-speed initialization, a half-finished work is saved, awaiting him in his documents folder.

But there’s definitely going to be _none_ of that, as Soonyoung has done absolutely _nothing_ for this nearly a month-long assignment.

He’s not making excuses but _come on_ , the guy has been dealing with one terrible scheme against mankind after the other in the span of months, despite having only been around in the superhero scene about that long. There’s got to be some compromise for this. Sure, it’s technically his fault he’d put off reading about how the results of Oedipus’ affair with his own mother are doing a la _Keeping Up With The Royal Line of Thebes_ , but also…

Actually, Soonyoung can’t come up with a counterargument. 

Anyway, this is the type of shit Wonwoo reads in his spare time—for _leisure_ —so you can guess how long ago he’d already been done with this crap. Soonyoung hasn’t even _started_. He wants to bash his head in, and he would, if he wasn’t sure it’d heal eventually.

It’s a rough night. His lizard escapade from some days ago pales in comparison, really. He doesn’t notice that some blood is dripping down his temple and chin from the cuts earlier that night, too absorbed in the tragedy that becomes of Antigone’s simple wish to be able to properly bury her brother, Polyneices. Apparently—Soonyoung distantly recalls Wonwoo mentioning—this work might not even be the most fucked up of the trilogy. Silly Ancient Greece.

Then, an opportune thing: Soonyoung’s phone rings, loud and obnoxious and startling, effectively breaking his concentration. He tears his eyes from his laptop screen to pick up the call. Subconsciously, he’s thankful that he’s given a reason to take a short break.

“Soonyoung!” Soonyoung hears Seokmin on the other line. Soonyoung brightens.

“Seokmin!” He manages with equal enthusiasm, tone blunted by exhaustion by just a little. He pushes his seat away from his desk with a foot, spinning his chair around so he doesn’t have to be facing his dreadful last-minute paper.

He hears some rustling on the line; Seokmin is getting seated on his bed, preparing them both for what’s sure to be long, epic story. It begins like this: “Soonyoung, you would not _believe_ what just happened to me at 7/11 today.”

Oh _god._

Soonyoung rubs a hand over his face (and the blood he still doesn’t know is on it gets all over his hand and everything is just sad and gross.)

Fantastic.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“So he asked me to be his partner.”

“Who did?” Soonyoung lags in reply, having to recover from a rude full-body bump thanks to some pissy looking businessman clearly suffering through a midlife crisis— you know, those types who impatiently shove at small, defenseless high schoolers on this lane like it’s routine? Yeah, those exist. Terrible.

Seokmin adjusts the messenger bag strap on his shoulder, tailing Soonyoung down a narrow path within the heart of a bustling crowd. “Seungkwan? Boo Seungkwan? I don’t know if you know him. I’ve heard of him before but only met him in extracurriculars.” He explains, straining his voice a bit so Soonyoung can hear him above the noise.

Soonyoung isn’t exactly sure what Seokmin is talking about—like which club or student org _specifically_ —because the guy has a shit ton of extracurriculars. Soonyoung figures it’s something to do with Seokmin’s nature, what with him being so _easy_ to drag into things. Therefore, people are always asking him to join so and so club with them, and as far as Soonyoung knows, Seokmin has never offered even the slightest, vaguest, brush-offiest rejection. It’s always an impossibly enthusiastic “sure!”

Whereas Wonwoo had long stopped trying to get Soonyoung to put his brains to good use at the Chem Club of just two other members (the other two members are Wen Junhui and Lee Jihoon. _Not really helping with the “Asians Are Nerds” stereotype here, folks_ , Soonyoung had told them.)

Of the suitable extracurriculars (like Seungcheol making Seokmin join the Sports Club because Seokmin is somewhat athletic, anyway), and unsuitable extracurriculars (like the now-dissolved Book Club that didn’t interest Seokmin nearly as much as it did Wonwoo who he joined it _for_ since Wonwoo was too shy to go alone), he loves and dedicates most time to the Theater Club.

Soonyoung, rather distracted, asks: “Is he from Korea, too?”

“Well, yeah. His name is, I mean, quite Korean sounding, isn’t it?” Seokmin answers, amused. Soonyoung realizes it’s a dumb question.

“Anyway, why were you late to school this time? Someone call you a dork?”

And oh, does Soonyoung wish he _actually_ had a reason for it— there could have been a robbery he stopped that he’d hide by saying he was confronted by the same fictional guy who handed his ass to him last week. Unfortunately, the truth of the matter is that Soonyoung crammed a massive report in one night and ended up… oversleeping. So he tells Seokmin that.

Seokmin laughs. Soonyoung finds himself echoing the laugh.

They eventually make it to Soonyoung’s street, and the journey it takes to get there involved Seokmin retelling how he accepted Seungkwan’s request to be his duet partner for Chorale Club, and Soonyoung detailing how it _sucks_ attending Chem Club as Wonwoo’s proxy while he’s gone.

Seokmin can pick out Soonyoung’s building as quickly as Soonyoung can by now, almost like it’s his own home. With how often he’s over, Seokmin also developed the muscle memory for the travel en route the Kwon household. Soonyoung’s apartment is humble in size and isn’t located at the best most postcard-worthy part of the city, so as Soonyoung leads Seokmin through the doors and up the stairs, everything is understandably dimly-lit and dusty and creaky. The building is no Jeon mansion, that’s for sure.

There’s a reminder to pay rent tacked on the door, and that’s how Soonyoung is _extra_ sure it’s his home. He feels his pockets for a key. He’s met with very empty pockets— save for some gum wrappers and crumpled months-old receipts for fried chicken. Well, fuck.

“It’s under the rug.” Seokmin reminds him.

“Oh.”

Now equipped with the key (no thanks to Soonyoung), they step through the open door, Seokmin behind Soonyoung, and they see a small grey-haired lady rearranging food on the pantry.

“Oh, Auntie, you’re home.” Soonyoung says. He automatically makes his way toward her to take over sorting the jars and cans himself, since his small aunt struggles reaching the shelf at her height.

“How was school?” She asks. She seems to be in the middle of preparing supper, but halts in favor of giving her surrogate son a peck on both cheeks. Soonyoung doesn’t rub it off or make a grossed out face. He never has, even as a snotty kid back in the day. Instead, he smiles at his aunt, no teeth, and for a flicker of a moment, it makes him look like he was the same five-year-old who first met his aunt and uncle from Korea.

“It was fine, hung out with Wonwoo’s nerd club against my will.”

“But Soonyoung, don’t you belong in the nerd club?”

Soonyoung blinks. _His own aunt!_

He is _crestfallen_ , despite his aunt’s aged face pulling into a smile that says ‘I’m fucking with you’ like it _often_ does. You wouldn’t _believe._ And it doesn’t help that he hears these barely contained snickers behind him.

“Sick burn, auntie.” Seokmin says.

“Seokmin! Oh, sweetheart, hello!” His aunt waves at Seokmin, and Seokmin gives her a killer smile that all older women are so fond of, bowing politely in response. She turns to Soonyoung, almost looking scandalized. “You didn’t say you were bringing Seokmin over!”

“Hi, auntie! Sorry for dropping by unexpectedly.” Seokmin shuts the door behind him, weaving through the constricted space of the apartment’s entrance (the Kwons were horrific hoarders) to join Soonyoung and his aunt.

“You’re always welcome here, dear.” Seokmin’s head hangs low, as he’s pulled down by Soonyoung’s aunt so that she’s given the perfect angle to ruffle his short hair. She plants a fat one on his cheek, too. Soonyoung watches, entertained. His aunt _loves_ Seokmin. Enough to treat like family.

There’s also the fact that Seokmin was ever-present and was a huge support for the Kwons when Soonyoung’s uncle had passed. Between being such a loyal friend to Soonyoung and Seokmin’s whole perfect son-in-law vibe, Soonyoung’s aunt just fucking loves the boy.

“We’ll be in my room.” Soonyoung informs his aunt, head peeking from his room’s door.

Soonyoung had already taken Seokmin to his room when his aunt pipes up from the kitchen, over the steady boil of her pot. “Is Seokmin staying for dinner?”

Soonyoung looks back at Seokmin for a response, who now was sitting on his unkempt bed. Seokmin purses his lips. Like previously said, Seokmin just isn’t good at the whole saying ‘no’ business. So Soonyoung is going to do it for him. “He can’t.”

“Nonsense. We have enough food. It’s also pretty late and Mrs. Lee herself would rather that he’s already eaten.”

Well, that’s that. There’s only so much you can do to try and convince Soonyoung’s aunt. And ‘so much’ means _nothing_. You can’t do _anything_ to convince her. “Okay, Auntie.” Soonyoung closes his door, facing Seokmin with a sheepish smile. “You heard her. She’s going to adopt you.”

The prospect makes Seokmin laugh. It’s something Seokmin’s mom says of Soonyoung in half-jest, too, sometimes. “Don’t you see me enough in school?” Seokmin jokes.

Soonyoung thinks about it. Does he?

 _No_ , that doesn’t seem to be the case lately. Though, it might have been. Once. When they were younger. It just can’t be true nowadays what with Seokmin’s schedule in school all packed, and Soonyoung’s secret superhero-ing. They usually only have lunch together. That’s really it. That’s the last part of their worlds that collide.

Before Soonyoung is given time to be sad and pathetic about it, Seokmin notes the messy state of the room. “Did you clean today? _For me?_ ” He says, putting a hand to his chest, all faux flattered and pleasantly ‘surprised.’

“You bet. I even put some of my dirty laundry away somewhere here.” Soonyoung vaguely gestures around the area. He doesn’t know where he put them, either. “ _Oh_ , the things I do for you, Lee Seokmin.”

“It’s because you love me.”

“ _Love you?_ ” Soonyoung scoffs. “I’m head over heels, Seokmin.”

“Really?”

“Whole-heartedly.”

Seokmin feigns a sigh, surveying Soonyoung’s room and supposed evidences of love for him. “I wish you could be just a little bit more in love with me so your room can be at least ¼ livable.”

Soonyoung solemnly shakes his head. “I don’t know if that’s possible.”

This is what Wonwoo calls flirting, apparently, and he had told Soonyoung before that it was cute and maybe even amusing the first few months. However, the way they remained unaware of and consistent in this painfully ambiguous kind of cringey behavior throughout the years has become a little annoying. That’s Wonwoo’s take on it, though. To Soonyoung and Seokmin, it’s a friendly conversation. Probably.

Soonyoung thinks about where he really had stuffed his clothes, concerned about _something_ he can’t place. When he sees red spandex by Seokmin’s feet, offensively sticking out from under his bed where they _should_ have been, hidden and safe, he freaks the _fuck_ out. Inwardly, of course.

He kicks it under the bed, not sure if he’d breathed out a ‘holy shit’ just then, seating himself next to Seokmin so frantically it should be suspicious. But Seokmin doesn’t find it suspicious, thus, Soonyoung is about to let out a sigh of relief—

And then Seokmin faces him. He’s really close. Which is a normal distance for them, and has been for years. Or more accurately, for Seokmin, it’s always been normal, and it’s never been normal for Soonyoung but he puts up with shit like this like a pro. It’s one of his greatest talents.

Soonyoung wonders if he’ll say something soon, and for Soonyoung’s sanity and _survival_ he hopes he does. The sooner the better. Seokmin’s eyebrows are furrowed, he seems to be looking at Soonyoung’s lips, and Soonyoung is just shrinking under his gaze— it’s the _worst_. “Uh.” Soonyoung says, intelligibly.

“What’s that?” Seokmin finally asks.

“Huh?” Soonyoung is so disoriented by their proximity, he doesn’t understand words.

“You have cuts on your face.” Seokmin replies. Seokmin is a very transparent guy. Soonyoung practically feels the energy of his frown.

“Oh! The cuts. Of course it’s the cuts.” Soonyoung says. The thing is that Seokmin really fucking looked like he was about to kiss him. Maybe Soonyoung’s delirious. In any case, he’s not _disappointed,_ mind you. “Middle schooler neighbor from downstairs thought it was a good idea to teach me how to use a hoverboard. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t a good idea.” He continues on to lie. He’s not sure how believable the story and the uncomfortable laughter he gives after are.

It’s a dumb story, and Soonyoung can’t tell if it sounds like something he’d do, but it does sound a lot like the stupid stories Wonwoo makes up to cover for him and make him look like an idiot. Seokmin gives him a soft smile. Soonyoung wishes he didn’t.

Seokmin brushes the pad of his thumb on the side of Soonyoung’s lip _._ “Oh, here, too.”

The cut doesn’t hurt. Soonyoung’s chest strangely does.

Seokmin pulls away to feel his pockets and go through his bag for something— Soonyoung isn’t sure what it is but doesn’t care because there’s suddenly so much _space._ Soonyoung can actually breathe normally like this. It’s like he was given a time-out. Seokmin zips his bag closed, after having fished out heart-printed bandaids from it.

Their hands fumble— Seokmin was going to peel it himself and put it on Soonyoung, but Soonyoung, for the life of him _cannot_ have that. In the end, Soonyoung hands awkwardly retreat, despite himself, and he looks everywhere else as the bandaids make their way onto his face via Seokmin’s hands.

“Why do you have bandaids on you?” Soonyoung decides to ask, just as Seokmin finishes. Seokmin hardly seems like the type to be overly-prepared.

“I noticed that the props and set team back at the Theater Club always got splintered and cut, so I bought bandaids once. But now, the Theater Club has no funding so there’s no set to be made by the set team and I just have this surplus of bandaids.”

The happy way Seokmin tells him this, and the small smile from which the words come from underlies disappointment. Seokmin is transparent. He tries very hard not to be. But he is.

Soonyoung might not know why Seokmin is so touchy with him and why he allows Soonyoung to be so touchy with him in return, why he seems to always give him a window of hope that he reciprocates his feelings and then crush it the next moment— but he knows Seokmin _himself_ , as a person, plain and simple.

“They’re shutting it down soon, aren’t they?” Soonyoung says quietly.

Seokmin is now absent-mindedly playing with the wrapper left in his hands. “The Theater Club? Yeah.”

“That… sucks.”

It’s sincere. Soonyoung just lacks delicacy and fluency right now, is all.

Seokmin nods though, _still_ smiling. He knows Soonyoung’s sincere. “It really does.”

In truth, Soonyoung admires Seokmin for this passion of his. Perhaps Soonyoung just hasn’t met enough people in his short teenage life so far, but Seokmin is of the minority who have a dream. Soonyoung isn’t sure he, himself, has one. He does; he thinks he does, and just doesn’t know what it is yet. But Seokmin does know his own dream, and works hard at it. That accounts for something.

A bulb clicks on in Soonyoung’s head.

“Then why don’t you audition outside of school?” He suggests. “Weren’t you working on auditioning for that movie musical thing you told me about?

“It’s a musical based on the movie based on the musical.” Seokmin corrects.

 _Geek_ , Soonyoung thinks, fondly (and hypocritically.) “Yes, that one! Why not audition for that?”

He’s thrown a line and Seokmin seems to be taking it. It’s an idea Seokmin is accepting. Soonyoung’s getting him: Seokmin appears to be gathering himself slowly in confidence and excitement about it—confidence and excitement that dissolves just as fast as it comes. Soonyoung deflates back onto his seat, too, though more subtly.

Seokmin scratches the back of his neck, unsure. “I don’t know, Soonyoung… Sure, it isn’t an official rerun and it’s some youth program gig, but the theater company doing it is pretty legit. Some of the people I’m going to go up against are people who have _real_ experience in the industry. Off and on Broadway, probably.” He explains. “Like, it’s gonna be people who did _Phantom of the Opera_ with an actual chandelier and not… not a hanging lamp with aluminum foil.”

Soonyoung is Seokmin’s _VIP_.

Well, Soonyoung likes to think he is in some way. Wonwoo can be sad about it not being him or whatever, but Soonyoung’s pretty sure he’s earned it. Soonyoung annoys everyone he knows (and doesn’t know) into watching the shows the Theater Club mounts, and Soonyoung has gone through _so_ _much_ having to be practiced on by Seokmin every time he’s trying to memorize lines. He wishes Seokmin were less great at it. On Soonyoung’s part—and stupidly he might add—it sometimes feels real. And god forbid it be a _romance_ he’s performing.

That said, Soonyoung knows very much how good Seokmin is. He is his number 1 believer.

Soonyoung gives him a little nudge and a small, heartening smile. “What? Come on, Seokmin, you’re _amazing_. I could fight you on so many fronts but you’d discredit me because I have no authority on this, wouldn’t you?”

Seokmin nods, grinning.

“Alright, I won’t attempt it.”

“Good.” Seokmin chuckles.

Soonyoung looks at him seriously, and places a hand over Seokmin’s in an act much too natural for him to even think to regret doing. “But listen, you’re not you if you don’t at least try.”

Seokmin’s smile thins down to his lips. It’s a quiet smile. It’s not blinding like usual, but it’s still just as warm. Seokmin laces their hands together— an action of mere affirmation which Soonyoung prudently doesn’t give superfluous meaning to.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He might have not woken up at all if it weren’t for the tenacious buzzing of his phone.

Soonyoung picks it up from under the cold side of his pillow, groggy. His blurry vision doesn’t take too long to adjust to the screen blinking with the influx of texts. He opens the most recent one.

 

To: Me  
From: seoku♡

SOONYOUNG ARE YUO AWAKE??????????

 

He squints at the message, but doesn’t get to read the rest because the call screen flashes over all of them. Even if he wasn’t looking, and even if Seokmin hadn’t just spammed his inbox, he would be able to tell it was him calling. (Why, you ask? His ringtone for Seokmin is the 4th _Naruto_ opening.) The voice on the other line is unsurprisingly loud and almost incoherent.

“I did it! _I DID IT!_ I got the part, Soonyoung! I got the part! I’m an _understudy_! Can you believe it?”

Soonyoung sits up in a movement so quick his blanket all but flies. His eyes widen, no longer weighed down by remnants of sleep. His hair is sticking in at least a million directions, and his hands clumsily toss the phone hand to hand like a hot potato.

“Seokmin, oh my god! Congrats!” Soonyoung yells into his speaker, just as loudly as Seokmin had, if not louder. His voice is a bit scratchy from just having woken up. “See? What did I tell you!”

Seokmin tone comes, not quietly per se, but it’s soft in a heartfelt way that his voice only rises above the bustle of the subway or the streets where he is by virtue of Soonyoung’s familiarity with his voice. “No, no, I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.”

There he goes again, unintentionally making Soonyoung’s insides all weird and annoying.

“What are you talking about? This is all you.” Soonyoung replies, toying with the edge of his blanket. “You gotta stop selling yourself short, bud.”

“Yeah, well. Still. Thank you.”

“Again, nothing to thank me for. Stop thanking me. Congratulations.”

“Okay. Thanks, Soonyoung.”

“Oh my god, _fine_ , you’re welcome.” Soonyoung hears the smile in his _own_ voice. “See you later.”

“In school? Check the time.” Seokmin laughs. “Class is over. See you _tomorrow_ , you mean.”

“Oh. Shit.” It doesn’t sound urgent at all, but only because this has happened to Soonyoung so many times it’s unimaginable. “Yeah, okay. See you tomorrow, Seokmin.”

Soonyoung keeps the phone to his ear.

“So… are you hanging up?”

“You do it,” whines Soonyoung.

“No, you do it.” Seokmin responds. “ _Please_?”

Soonyoung sighs. “I’m hanging up now.”

“Okay. Bye.”

“Bye. Congratulations again!”

“Thanks again! Hang up now.”

“Hanging up now.”

He ends the call. Most calls go on for longer, and stretched beyond belief by neither of them wanting to hang up first. It’s kind of gross, Wonwoo says of the habit. They aren’t even dating.

Soonyoung falls back on his bed, phone to his chest, with a giant exhale of breath. His phone beeps again, and okay, maybe it’s a little disappointing that this time it isn’t Seokmin.

This time, it’s a text from an unsaved number.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The city looks like a different place in the day. There aren’t any shadows to hide those nooks and crannies, and the light all comes from the sun as opposed to neon trails dotting streets. It’s around twelve in the afternoon, the sun directly overhead, and Soonyoung is hanging off of just another old less popular building in the “scenic” Hell’s Kitchen _._

His mask is lifted just until his nose, and he’s eating some unauthentic _bingsu_ he bought from some artisanal hipster Korean-fusion café near Wonwoo’s street. It’s melted since, and it’s now more milk and syrup than anything else.

Soonyoung sees shadows form on the melted imposter _bingsu_ ; the silhouette is shaped like a person hovering over him. Soonyoung looks up, greeted by snow-colored hair, a domino mask, earrings, and the whole black cat suit thing.

“Black Cat.” Soonyoung says, spoon mid-scoop.

“Spidey.” Black Cat acknowledges, smiling.

Soonyoung knows exactly _two_ things about Black Cat. One is that he’s Chinese— he’s heard him yell what sounded like Chinese expletives at police officers in anger before. The other is that he’s probably killed someone once in the past, even if he keeps saying he hasn’t. That’s all. He doesn’t ask to know more, and in turn, neither does Black Cat.

He and Black Cat aren’t nemeses or anything. In fact, they’d partnered up several times before when their interests would converge and it would just be wise and practical to work together. However, Soonyoung _has_ asked him several times before to side with The Good Guys once and for all, but Black Cat seems to prefer operating in the grey area. Soonyoung’s stopped pressing it temporarily.

“Have you ever been in love, Black Cat?”

Black Cat is _incredulous_.

“The fuck?” He says. “This _can’t_ be why you called me over.”

Maybe the homicidal felon is right. Soonyoung has bigger problems. He has a city to save, and he’s having _boy problems_?

He retracts it immediately, because though it just feels _right_ to talk about it with an almost stranger, that’s not what he came for. “Oh, it isn’t.” 

“Good.” Black Cat seems to be eyeing him warily—Soonyoung can’t ever really tell with that mask—but he seats himself next to Soonyoung, nonetheless. “So, what’s up, hero boy?”

“I wanted to ask if you knew anything about the recurrent blackouts across the city.” Soonyoung replies. “The one that caused JeonCorp’s temporary shutdown.”

JeonCorp had been the last one standing, so to speak, and the glitches were harmless and manageable. At first.

Recently, though, just as the Jeons have flown in from Germany, short two-minute black outs across the city began to happen spontaneously. No lights, no signal, nothing. It always took days for JeonCorp to restore their power, so eventually, they had to take measures that included closing up for a while.

Black Cat just hums, no explanations offered.

Soonyoung presses, ever determined. “Like from a scale of company sabotage to weird cult-y organization to downright _alien invasion_ , how weird is this?”

“Info doesn’t come free.” Black Cat states. “And how are you even sure I have ears on this?”

“I figured you might have ears on everything?”

Black Cat frowns, unimpressed. “Seriously?” When all Soonyoung does is bite his lower lip, Black Cat buries his face into his gloved hands, groaning. “God, I am yet again the only working piece in your plan.”

“You would be wrong.” Soonyoung quickly retorts. “I don’t even have a plan yet.”

“Sounds about right.” Black Cat isn’t shocked by that anymore. He stares Soonyoung down, but Soonyoung doesn’t give, and if Black Cat knows anything about Spider-man it’s that he’s incredibly stubborn— so he sighs instead, yielding. “I’ll tell you, but you have to get S.H.I.E.L.D off my back.”

“I can’t even get S.H.I.E.L.D off my _own_ back!” Soonyoung exclaims.

It’s sad, because knowing S.H.I.E.L.D’s weird relationship with the Avengers, Soonyoung has come to expect S.H.I.E.L.D to deliver him some sort of invitation or notice of recruitment, but all they really do is police him and try to trap him somewhere.

“Well, they’re obviously partial to you, because I tried to steal an alien weapon and you stopped me so. Do something. Don’t shut up about why they should leave me alone like you always don’t shut up about things. I don’t know. Your call.”

If all it took for S.H.I.E.L.D to get off of Soonyoung’s back was to treat alien tech with respectable distance, S.H.I.E.L.D would have disappeared from his life a long time ago. Of course, Black Cat doesn’t _understand_ this. People like him think Soonyoung is loved by the government and those super-secret underground agencies with a million acronyms for things just because he tries to be a do-gooder, when that couldn’t be farther from the truth. “Look, can’t you just. Put this on my tab? Ask for another thing some other time?” Soonyoung pleads.

Black Cat considers it, and very well might have something to ask for in the future, but his posture loosens and he shrugs in assent— and it’s surprisingly _not_ because of the promise of a boundless favor. “Okay.” He says. In a much quieter voice, he adds, “Just because I owe you.”

Black Cat has not done enough bad for him to warrant death, but has not done enough good to warrant Soonyoung’s mercy. At least that’s what _he_ thinks, but not what Soonyoung thinks.

It was a high-stake robbery— one of Soonyoung’s earlier gigs. Didn’t even have a proper suit then. Black Cat had hurt a lot of people to get to that money, and when bigger people sought revenge, Soonyoung went out of his way—through a shitstorm, really—to save his life. Black Cat couldn’t comprehend it.

That’s why these hero types freak him out. None of which freak him out as much as Spider-man, though. He figures it wasn’t so much as the bad or good in him that dictates whether he is worth saving— it’s if someone like Soonyoung is out there, who is enough good for the both of them, and would save the least deserving of men in a heartbeat if it meant something for the greater good.

“It’s… a mutant thing. Like the ‘altered by a freak accident’ mutant thing.” Black Cat begins. It sounds an awful lot like Soonyoung’s situation, having been turned Super only by accident instead of being born into it. But, you know what they say. With great power comes great… responsibility? Or something.

“Max Dillon.” Black Cat hands him a file. Soonyoung takes it and flips through the pages. Note: there aren’t a lot of them. Pages, that is. There’s just not much to this guy. No achievements. No criminal records, even.

“I trace it back to the AccuTech accident in 2008. He was hospitalized after. He also worked there for some time. And a lot of other places.” Black Cat points at highlights on his resumé. “He worked as an electrical engineer at several places and was booted from all of them because he was a sad creep or something. He already took down the smaller companies he’s been at before by destroying the tech.”

Soonyoung absorbs this information like a sponge.

“Maybe he’s turned into some living electrical capacitor.” He thinks aloud. “The tech, power lines and whatever else don’t get destroyed _because_ he’s overcharging them. It’s the opposite. If anything, he’s charging himself with their power to get stronger. He’s draining the city.” Soonyoung pauses, and a terrible feeling starts to settle in his gut as he realizes the exact gravity of the situation with each word he speaks.

“He’s gone venture to business to _empire_. JeonCorp is obviously next, if not the last on his list to top it all off.”

Black Cat exhales. “There you go, I guess.”

Soonyoung keeps reading on, to no avail, because there’s just nothing else to Max Dillon. Files don’t tell you anything past hard facts. “What’s he doing? What’s his end game here? Is it just revenge?”

“Fuck if I know. Maybe the usual. The villainous need for chaos. Wasn’t loved as a kid. Whatever. Point is, you just said that he could plunge New York—and if he gets that much stronger, not just New York—in darkness. It’s nothing like you faced yet, Spidey.” Black Cat places a hand on Soonyoung’s shoulder. “I would say don’t do anything stupid and don’t go after the guy by yourself, but of course you’ll do something stupid and go after the guy by yourself, right?”

Perhaps he’s right. What are the odds Soonyoung has? He’s been winning all these battles by a slim margin so far, and quite possibly a lot of it is simply due to dumb luck.

But… winning the battles? That’s not why he does it. Which is why—especially in a world like this where no one will—he has to try.

Soonyoung pulls his mask down, and Black Cat is almost certain he’s smirking under it. “How do you know me so well?”

Soonyoung can’t see behind the domino mask, but Black Cat rolls his eyes. He did anticipate this, didn’t he? It doesn’t make what Soonyoung is inevitably going to do less stupid. But, if anything—and he’s not usually one to take sides—he’s rooting for Spider-man.

“Also, not like you take good advice ever, but have you heard of this thing called Being Honest Once In A While? It’s the trend these days.”

“What?” Soonyoung tilts his head in confusion. This advice is out of nowhere and not to mention _ironic_. Black Cat thieves for a living and has the audacity to speak of honesty?

“I mean the person you’re ‘in love’ with.” Black Cat says, getting up to leave. “Good luck, Spidey. With literally _everything_ in your life right now.”

“Thanks! I don’t know if that’s sarcastic but I really needed it!” Soonyoung yells to Black Cat’s retreating back.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Soonyoung has found a way to track electricity usage in the entire city. He spent an afternoon and an hour-long Skype session with Wonwoo on it— well, on that and on alien-related matters. He’s taking note of any place where usage seems abnormal. That’s what he _was_ doing until he gets a call from Seokmin, anyway.

“Yay!” Soonyoung chirps. There is a short pause before he hears Seokmin utter an ‘oh my _god_ , Soonyoung’ on the other line— then, he realizes his mistake. “Well, I mean. Not yay. I’m happy that you get to perform and show people how good you are and how much you rehearsed. But I’m not happy Jacob has a cold.”

“ _Jonathan_ has the _flu_.” Seokmin says. Seokmin snickers—bless Jonathan, he was not snickering at him, but at Soonyoung. “You’ll come, right? It’s on the 7th. But I can’t pick you up because I have technical dress rehearsals. Wonwoo could.”

“Of course I’ll come!” Soonyoung says. He has never missed a show in all their years of friendship, after all.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Doors open at 7. Show ends at 10. I’ll pick you up 6:30 and— hey, are you listening?”

“Yeah, I am.” Soonyoung answers, not listening.

It’s fucking impossible. He’d been trying to use a rusty old bolt cutter to rid the backdoor of the chains that forbid his entrance. He gets it open eventually, with his bare hands instead (super strength, what can you do?), and it only dawns to him now how much simpler and less time consuming it would have been to just break everything in his path. He’s already trespassing private property, anyway. (Which he’s never done in his life, by the way, but there is a first for everything.)

“You aren’t.” Soonyoung barely hears Wonwoo say, his phone balancing precariously between an ear and a shoulder.

“I’m _listening_.” Soonyoung lowers his voice. “Doors open at…” He trails off, pausing mid-step, unable to recall _anything_ Wonwoo had just told him. Okay, point taken.

“What are you even doing right now? Why are you whispering?”

The building is all sorts dusty and eerie. It’s also still not empty. Old equipment are left lying around, dirty sheets draped over them. Once Soonyoung shuts the door behind him, he’s encased in almost complete darkness. “I’m at the old AccuTech building.”

“ _What?_ ” Wonwoo says, in thorough disbelief. “Why?”

“You know the JeonCorp malfunctions? Someone’s causing it.”

“Soonyoung, what—”

“I’ll tell you _all_ about it after Seokmin’s show, okay? See you later, bye!”

He hangs up to leave Wonwoo to deal with the confusion by himself, promptly tucking the phone back into his knapsack. He takes a flashlight from one of the pockets, and its flickering light aids him down the lobby. It’s a ghost building— everything is exactly how it was left. Soonyoung isn’t sure what he’s really looking for here. There’s a map still plastered on one of the building’s walls. He pushes some of the peeled paint blocking the text back.

Basement 2 was home to the electrical engineering department, among other departments. None of the elevators are operational, so Soonyoung takes the stairs.

There are some files here and there on the employees; however, Soonyoung might have wanted to go to the HR floor six floors up if he wanted more. He’s made a mess of the only available folders, and he’s ready to declare this a dead-end and head to the fourth floor.

Turns out, it might not be.

The stuff there seem to be general files on AccuTech itself as a company, with specific dates, budget breakdowns and all, and amidst all this common information, Soonyoung develops a lead. AccuTech cut off operations in 2008, a short week following The Accident that happened on the 8th of October, according to the official statements. Soonyoung is aware it’s a reach. But there has to be something to the blackouts occurring specifically this month— October.

A chill runs up his spine, and a feeling grips at his guts. Yep, it’s _Spideysense_.

Soonyoung really doesn’t care how uncool the name he’s made for it is (and for the record, he _disagrees_ ; it’s _really_ cool), especially if it gives him a heads-up someone is there. It’s probably the police. He stealthily switches his flashlight off and works himself hidden into a corner, hyperawareness enrapturing him, the sound of the footsteps he hears growing distant.

Before he thinks he could have a breather, however, the unthinkable happens. For a few seconds, the sudden whirring sounds breaching the silence sound explosive. The lights—too bright—start opening one by one, and Soonyoung’s eyes that have used these past hours to become accustomed to the dark are blinded temporarily. Nothing in this place has worked for _years_.

Then—in the shittiest timing possible—his phone rings. And man is it _loud_. “Shit,” says Soonyoung under his breath.

A man emerges, sprinting at full speed where the ringing sound of Soonyoung’s stupid phone takes him. Soonyoung guesses it’s Electro. Well, it would be really confusing if he weren’t, because the guy is in a costume that just screams supervillain— no nuance or subtlety whatsoever. Soonyoung aims his webs away from this mess and swings right out of there.

He finds himself way ahead of his opponent. It’s easy to be, when you’re bypassing the stairs, climbing walls and walls up to the top floor. Electro tries to direct his electric energy right at Soonyoung, but Soonyoung dodges it each time.

And Soonyoung thinks, at around the 10th story of the building, Electro some flights of stairs below him, still an imminent threat— this is a good time to answer Wonwoo’s call.

“Are you even home? I’ve been knocking out here for almost an hour. We’ll be late.” Wonwoo opens the call, ever straight to the point.

“No hello’s? Or how are you’s?”

Wonwoo does not have the luxury of time and Soonyoung’s quips. “Why do you sound like that?” He asks. Soonyoung imagines that Wonwoo might be massaging his temples right now, which he has only been doing an inordinate amount of times ever since Soonyoung became Spider-man. “Jesus, Soonyoung.”

“Wonwoo, don’t worry, I’ll catch up. I just… need to figure out a way out of here first.”

“Out of _where_? Soonyoung—”

Wonwoo’s voice gets cut. This time, it’s not because Soonyoung is being difficult. Soonyoung watches his phone’s screen rapidly blink, and then go black. Soonyoung looks down to see Mr. Electro a landing below him.

Of fucking _course_.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Our hero lands ungracefully, throwing himself against a metal fence, ultimately denting a Soonyoung shape into it for which he is sorely sorry for. He shrugs out of his jacket— it’s burnt at the edges now, no thanks to an electrical powered maniac—ties it around his waist, and in all of his disoriented glory, manages to get up on both feet. He has second thoughts about the bouquet he was able to get. It’s an ugly set of flowers (all but one shop was still open at this time; sue him), made even uglier by the harsh journey it took with Soonyoung to get here, but it was always a tradition, hence, Soonyoung has no choice but to stand by the ugly flowers.

He looks terrible, feels terrible, and he let Electro go, but if it’s any consolation, he got out with a lead and exhausted Electro of all his power— at least for now.

Across the street he’s on is the address of the show venue Seokmin texted him.

He’s made it, regardless of all the confusing directions and how inconveniently located the theater is. This is definitely the place.

Except it _can’t_ be, not when there are next to no people in the area. Posters and decorations have all been taken down, and the building’s front has its lights close one after the other just as Soonyoung takes a step forward, as if on cue.

A step away from the road, right in front of the venue, a figure stands, waiting, looking around.

It’s Seokmin.

That makes Soonyoung take a step back.

Unable to remember for the life of him which pocket he’d shoved it into, Soonyoung takes too uncomfortably long to clumsily retrieve his phone. He checks the time. It’s some mere minutes to midnight. _Fuck_.

A very bad feeling washes over him as he looks back at the theater front: Seokmin and his co-stars are all changed out of their costumes, congratulating each other, parting ways. Wonwoo appears, too, to give Seokmin a pat on the back. He made the show, of course. He and Soonyoung have never missed a show.

(But there is a first for everything.)

Soonyoung backs away slowly. His arms drop to his side, and it no longer matters if the dreadful flowers’ loose petals finally fall. There’s a moment of debate within him, his feet not knowing whether he should turn all the way back, or keep walking onward. He _could_ go there right now. Seokmin hasn’t left. He could meet him.

The thing is, he doesn’t know which excuse to throw at Seokmin if he approaches him now. All that talk of Soonyoung being used to lying to him? It was never the case after all, unfortunately.

Soonyoung’s never been in this position. There is a steadily boiling panic that overtakes him, forcing him to tread the opposite direction, toss the flowers into a nearby trash bin, and shoot a web up to take him away, as if he was never there at all.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Soonyoung would have preferred it if Seokmin got angry.

If Seokmin exploded at him, yelled at him, listed down all the times he’d been a terrible friend, make Soonyoung sit through sad descriptions of how betrayed he felt. The more punishing, the better.

But Seokmin would _never_. The guy wouldn’t ever even entertain the thought of doing anything like that to anyone, and that just makes it _so_ much harder for Soonyoung. He’d rather take what’s due him than be constantly reminded of how kind the person he hurt was.

Seokmin and Soonyoung have not spoken today, and their shared lunchtime with Wonwoo has become the collateral: Seokmin doesn’t show up to lunch. Soonyoung doesn’t blame him.

“He’s upset, right? Like, he’s told you that he was.”

Wonwoo would be disgusted at how pathetic Soonyoung looked—cheek pressed against the cold canteen table, face rid of any emotion other than sadness, sighing every five seconds—if he didn’t care.

“Well, he…” Wonwoo chooses his words wisely. “…hinted it.”

Soonyoung sighs. Again. Not the best words Wonwoo could have chosen.

Wonwoo still tries. “He’s trusted you—more than any other person—with his dreams, Soonyoung.”

“Okay, I get it! I’ve disregarded his trust, _god,_ ” laments Soonyoung. Shit, Wonwoo thinks, _terrible_ choice of words. Soonyoung hasn’t even touched the gross canteen food, and Soonyoung is the _only_ person Wonwoo knows who loves the gross canteen food. Wonwoo frowns.

Soonyoung is very badly stewing in this crippling uneasiness; in this state of being hopelessly _lost_ — and to most, one little fight might not seem so bad on the surface, but to put it into perspective, Soonyoung is just reacting the only way he knows how to something so new and unfamiliar to him: he and Seokmin _never_ fight. They have never, ever fought.

On the other hand, Wonwoo and Soonyoung have gone through an awkward speaking period before. Particularly, during the brief time Seokmin and Wonwoo dated back in first year. The before, during, and after of their relationship was not even half as awkward for the actually involved as it was for the third wheel, Kwon Soonyoung. For reasons obvious to two of them now, but weren’t then. But this? Between Seokmin and Soonyoung? This definitely is a first. Soonyoung is not used to it, and doesn’t want to be used to it. He hates it _so_ much.

It’s like treading a minefield, but Wonwoo braves it, and reaches out carefully to pat Soonyoung’s back.

“No big deal. I lose everyone I care about one way or another.” Soonyoung mumbles, with a small, colorless, self-deprecating laugh. “In no time, Jeon Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo falters. To hear aloud what he had felt Soonyoung was thinking all along? It’s unbearable. Soonyoung’s life has been by no means a charmed life, mind you— losing both his parents at a young age, and then losing the uncle who essentially raised him. Soonyoung is also typically never one to voice out what he feels, always hiding behind the fact that he seemingly never takes things seriously. Wonwoo withholds his own sigh…

…and punches Soonyoung’s shoulder. The latter whines at the impact, but Wonwoo is undeterred. “Calm down, Drama Kwon. You’re not losing anyone.” He says softly, a contrast to the painful not at all soft attack on Soonyoung’s shoulder. “Look, Seokmin’s never upset with anyone for long. Rarely even upset with anyone _ever_.”

Soonyoung listens, albeit miserably. But he’s listening and not completely despondent to the point of unresponsiveness, so Wonwoo thinks it’s a small victory. “So if I were you, just... Don’t worry. Be the one to approach him, first of all. You can’t _not_ go to his play and be the one avoiding him. He’s going to think he did something wrong, and that you hate him.”

“I don’t mean to avoid him.”

“I know,” replies Wonwoo, placating.

“I don’t hate him.”

“God, I _know_.” Wonwoo says. “Just talk him, Soonyoung. Tonight, at the gala.”

JeonCorp is holding a gala to thank all the beneficiaries who have kept the company afloat amidst all the mess in the city. Naturally, Wonwoo is obligated to go and does not want to go at all costs— but if Soonyoung and Seokmin are there, it will be at least a little bit bearable. Of course, that’s only if they straighten things out.

Soonyoung ponders this, and he rises bit by bit from his slouched position. “Yeah. I will.” Soonyoung finally manages a tiny smile. “Thanks, Wonwoo.”

A moment is to be had, Soonyoung assumes. He receives an encrypted text that destroys all possibility of one, however.

 

To: Me  
From: Unknown

ELECTRO IS ON THE GO. they say he stocked up on power sources. (how badly did you fuck him up?? lol)

watch out for Times Square tonight. Project: Eternal Darkness T-minus ??????? –B.C

 

 _Damn_. Soonyoung’s suspicions end up getting proven right, and it’s neither a good thing nor bad thing. Any turn of events would have been devastating. He’s definitely making a dumb face of sorts at his phone, causing Wonwoo to go: “…what is it now?”

Soonyoung tears his eyes away from his phone, sheepish. “Change of plans…” He says, looking—to his credit—sincerely sorry.

Wonwoo sighs. “Duty calls, I guess.”

“Yeah.” Soonyoung sighs back. “Duty calls.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Upon further reflection, Soonyoung can say he doesn’t hate the Lizard Guy. In fact, he sort of misses him. Some times more than others. Right now, he especially does. He had really taken him for granted. This new guy is _relentless_.

The guy’s face is on every screen in Times Square, every piece of technology is fucking up or is absolutely fried, and the crowd cannot disperse into a safer place fast enough. Soonyoung would get caught in the stampede of panicked folk if not for his trusty webs.

Soonyoung stands across Electro, who is perched atop a higher surface above a giant screen bearing a blown-up image of his face. Soonyoung feels small. Smaller than the situation, and smaller than this man who holds Soonyoung’s beloved city in his hands.

“Hey, Max!” He cups his hands around his mouth, calling out.

Electro doesn’t seem to appreciate being called by his name; his head snaps toward Soonyoung, teeth angrily gritted. The surge of energy he aims at Soonyoung is far stronger this time around than it was during their timely encounter in the abandoned AccuTech building, and Soonyoung narrowly makes it out of its reach.

It would be best not to stay still. Soonyoung is fairly good at that. He leaps off a building to another, Electro now missing him by less and less as Soonyoung continues to dash away from striking distance. Damn it.

His original goal was to get closer— to get close enough to attach something Black Cat gave him a few days ago, but how is he expected to do that when going closer means possibly dying?

“Don’t you just want to talk this out?” He yells. “Have some coffee? Share our feelings with each other?”

Electro does not respond. Not with words, anyway. Soonyoung free falls a tall outlet building to evade Electro’s rain of attacks, accurately webbing at another edifice to suspend himself, sparing himself from certain death. He maneuvers his body, swinging his legs with what would be grace, and makes it back to where he started with Electro, unscathed. The sight of Spider-man—very much alive and unhurt—must aggravate Electro.

“If you want, I can start.” Soonyoung says.

Something on the evacuated building Soonyoung is on bursts. _Explodes_ would be more accurate. He smoothly strays away from it. “That’s a no.” He says. “Good talk!”

Looks like diplomacy won’t work with this guy— not that Soonyoung had ever foolishly thought it would. He gets back down on the streets, and Electro, growing impatient, has begun to tail him. On the sidewalk where Soonyoung lands is a toppled over hotdog stand, and a man braced against the wall—scared shitless—about to run for his dear life.

“Sorry, sir, but can I borrow this?” Soonyoung asks, gesturing to the broken-down stand. With ease, he lifts the cart over his shoulders. “I said ‘borrow,’ but I’m not so sure I can return it after I’m done with it.”

He turns back to the stand’s owner, apologetic. “I am really, _really_ sorry.”

The vendor had already fled by the time Soonyoung had finished expressing his regrets, however. Oh, well. Soonyoung flings the cart at Electro’s nearing figure— the thing flies and then _doesn’t_. Electro manages to break it apart, the image of its wreckage falling down, in flames, reminiscent of Soonyoung’s entire life thus far.

With that out of the way, Soonyoung is briefly hit by a painful rush of energy that slams him against a wall. The impact of the crash breaks a part of the brick wall, but doesn’t even scratch his upgraded suit for which he is endlessly thankful to Wonwoo for. Still, the effect of the hit paired with Electro’s crazy powers is dizzying and agonizing, and is nothing at all like a scaled slap to the face or a robot tentacle tight around a limb, so Soonyoung takes longer than usual to get back to stance.

In the time he takes to extricate himself from split bricks and crushed concrete, he becomes the last person in Times Square. Electro has left the scene.

Well, this has generally been… inconvenient.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The eldest Jeon son is running late to the JeonCorp-sponsored gala, not for any other reason than traffic.

He sits at the backseat of his father’s Rolls Royce, looking out the window at the unmoving queue of cars on the road. Nothing has moved. It’s been this way for a while now. He’d gotten a text from Seokmin twenty minutes ago that he had already arrived by himself, and Wonwoo’s sorry about that, but wouldn’t be _too_ worried about leaving Seokmin alone. Seokmin can be fumbly and embarrassing around new people (in this situation, it’s new, rich, important people, but those are irrelevant modifiers, aren’t they?), but Seokmin is sweet and friendly, and that’s a good enough foundation to survive in the lion’s den.

Wonwoo worries more about _himself_ in these things, to be honest. He just has to show his face—it’s literally all he has to do, as a Jeon—but it proves to be uncomfortable for him usually. He’s thankful for Soonyoung and Seokmin’s presence in these things, even if they lack the standard, universally-accepted definition of class at times.

However, Soonyoung won’t be coming, as Wonwoo had been informed of earlier today. It’s regretful, and Soonyoung doesn’t even owe the people of New York—no, the _world—_ anything, but he puts his supposed-to-be simple teenage life on hold to save every last one of them, regardless.

Wonwoo is fiddling with his cufflinks; just something to do in the paralyzing idleness, when the car abruptly stops moving in its snail’s pace, and the inertia almost sends Wonwoo over. He hears people clamoring, and loud car honks sound off along the stretch of the road. He peers outside the window, and sees the light bulbs from streetlamps explode in succession down a path, and establishment after establishment shut down entirely.

Amid this, he recalls a hysterical, incomplete phone conversation between him and Soonyoung about “someone” causing JeonCorp’s now regular malfunctions. _This_ is what Soonyoung was probably leading up to, and why he’s busy for the night.

Wonwoo hastily unlocks the car door, and staggers outside. His chauffer’s desperate “Master Wonwoo!” is swallowed up by everything else, as his gaze sweeps over the darkness; the sneak peek of how tonight ends for everyone, if Spider-man for whatever reason suddenly hits a dry spell.

Wonwoo is—and this is a severe understatement—worried.

He remembers this chaos and its undeniable link to JeonCorp, and thinks of Seokmin, an hour early for the JeonCorp event and he—

He _panics_. He anxiously tries to call Seokmin, but his phone won’t get through. He dials and re-dials, jogging counter flow to people making their way to escape— to safety.

 

 

* * *

 

 

By the delicately decorated tables on the side of the hall is one Lee Seokmin— specifically, he is by the _hors d'oeuvres_ , which Soonyoung had pronounced “horse divorce” once on purpose or otherwise, so that fact is more than comforting to Seokmin who is now awkwardly standing, living off these small dishes made of ingredients he’s never heard of cooked in ways he has never heard of.

He had done well so far, and it’s been mostly painless on his part— he smiled when necessary, offered a few jokes, even dressed up in a nice suit and neatly groomed his hair up. But it doesn’t change the fact that he is an outsider who did this as a favor to _Wonwoo_ , who, by the looks of it, might not even come. To what is technically his own gala.

Then, like it was answering his prayers, his phone rings. He hasn’t checked it yet but he already feels _relieved._ He fishes his phone from his pocket and sees Wonwoo’s name flash on the screen.

For a second.

The name is displayed for a second or two, and the screen flickers before it goes black. His phone had straight-up died on him.

He doesn’t think his battery was at low percentage before he came. He tries to turn it on a few times, and hits it with the back of his hand, but nothing works. It’s dead.

Gasps and cries erupt in the hall, and before Seokmin can look up to check what had happened, he is immediately confronted by the dark. The lights on the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling blink violently and fade into blackness. At the same time, a loud sound that reminds Seokmin a lot of sockets sizzling when the plug isn’t plugged in correctly— which isn’t a very artistic metaphor, he knows, but is very accurate—shuffles into the hall. The crackles become virtually deafening when a glowing figure appears on the top of the stairs.

People go up in a frenzy— champagne glasses shatter, the poor _hors d'oeuvres_ Seokmin had become so familiar with tumble onto the ground, men and women become unconscious of which way they’re going but nevertheless hope it’s the way that takes them away from here. Seokmin is at a loss, trapped in middle of it all.

The guy proceeds to spew an evil monologue—as villains in this lovely city often do—going off about redemption; about how companies like JeonCorp suck the life out of people, and how he plans to regain his years lost—so basically it’s stuff people say about companies all the time, except all the while, this electrofreak is turning the place over with his barrage of attacks.

The only source of light apart from this supervillain’s obnoxious, blinding glare comes from the front doors being forced open by fleeing people. They pour into the streets while Seokmin remains frozen in place. His eyes would be set on—Electrick, was it? Was that how he introduced himself? It’s really hard to keep track with all these bad guys New York attracts—if only his eyes didn’t hurt looking at him. It’s not even about the less than flattering, clichéd supervillain outfit.

A middle-aged man trips over the carpet that had been wrinkled by clumsy attempts to abscond, taking Seokmin’s attention away from the avant-garde rogue on the stairs— Seokmin easily makes the man out even in the moving crowd. Without a beat of hesitation, he rushes over to help him up, and helps lead the lumbering man all the way outside.

He contemplates getting out, too, and he should have done that about five sentences into—Electrix’s? Electronix’s?—soliloquy. For a brief time, it’s worth wondering _why_ he hasn’t— until he finds that at the far corner of the hall remains one of the helpless attendees, folded over herself on the floor. His feet almost move by themselves.

In this moment of consideration, a hand unexpectedly grips at his arm, tight but shaky at the same time. Seokmin is spun around to face a much disheveled, tired, uncharacteristically frantic Wonwoo.

“Seokmin, what are you doing?” Wonwoo says, out of breath. He tries to pull Seokmin along with him. “Let’s _go_!”

Seokmin can’t will himself to come with.

There wasn’t anything to be considered— Seokmin does what he’d decided he was going to do before Wonwoo came. “Sorry.” He says, having the fucking nerve to smile apologetically while slipping out of Wonwoo’s grasp.

Wonwoo, both winded and flat-out incredulous, pauses by the doors. What the fuck.

“Why do both my friends have death wishes?” He says, to no one, still—despite every logical part of him—cautiously following Seokmin from way behind.

“Hey, are you alright?” Seokmin gently approaches the woman and crouches to her height. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” He places a comforting hand on her shoulder, easing her out of the corner. The woman nods shakily.

“ _Seokmin!_ ”

While Seokmin gets the woman to her unsteady feet, Wonwoo’s urgent voice cuts through the air, distant and jarring. Seokmin turns around to look for Wonwoo, but is instead faced with the self-proclaimed guest of honor himself (Oh, _Electro_! His name was ELECTRO!)—whose hands, made of destructive energy—are reaching for Seokmin. Seokmin instinctively had stepped in front of the woman, and he braces himself.

The attack doesn’t come.

Seokmin can’t believe this is really happening _again_.

 _Spider-man_ swoops in, webbing Electro’s hands together and sending his good friend Electro a friendly kick to the face in one swift movement. The woman splutters thanks aimed at no one in particular—seemingly to air, even—and kicks off her broken heels, running off right as the thud of Electro’s back hitting the floor echoes in the nearly empty hall.

Soonyoung takes advantage of this, heaving a nearby long food table over his head and hurling it to where Electro lay recovering on the ground. These are all temporary ways to hold him down. Soonyoung has never been crazy enough to think otherwise— already, Electro had rendered the webbing around his hands to ash, proving him right. Soonyoung looms over Electro, and Electro’s light glows brighter, _fiercer_ ; his face twists in a more frustrated strain of fury.

Wonwoo reaches Seokmin, who is looking on from the sidelines. Soonyoung notices. He looks at him, brave behind the comfort of his mask. They hold the gaze for some moments, and Seokmin gets a sense of a strange feeling—whatever constitutes ‘strange’ anymore in superpowered face-off situations such as this, anyway—but it’s chased away when Soonyoung breaks away first, nodding at Wonwoo. Wonwoo tugs Seokmin away successfully this time.

“They can escape now. But _wherever_ they run I can still go.” Electro utters his very first words to Soonyoung as soon as the two leave. Electro’s power is far-reaching, and there is next to no place he can’t get his hands on. “You know that, Spider-man.”

Soonyoung does his absolute best to ignore the blatant threat, even with the honest fear of losing any more of his loved ones purposely fiddled with by Electro. “What’s the nearest thing humans can get to unlimited power?” Soonyoung asks.

Electro takes time to get up, splinters all over his clothes, and Soonyoung backs away, careful.

“I have a theory,” says Soonyoung. “Sophisticated technology from a different species.”

This gets Electro’s full attention. He glowers at Soonyoung, dubious.

“It’s exactly what it sounds like, Electro, my dude. I’m not one to have alien tech with me, but I have a friend.” Soonyoung continues, with a casual, almost annoying shrug of the shoulders. “You can have it, if you stop this. You can have it—make it a part of you. And that’s worth more than any destruction you can hope to cause.”

Soonyoung reveals a small chip-like object in the palm of his hand, with what was Chitauri writings on its side, emanating a bright blue light. Electro looks absolutely taken by it, the blue of the alien item reflecting on his eyes.

The deciding takes a ridiculous amount of nervous heartbeats between admittedly the both of them; Electro glances at Soonyoung, and back at the chip.

Electro clenches his fist, and resolutely nods.

Soonyoung hands it over to him, and does not do anything to hide the relief in his posture once he does. Seeing this makes Electro howl in laughter—it’s one of the worst evil laughs Soonyoung’s ever heard, and he’s heard quite a lot—while he begins absorbing the power from the chip. His light broadens reach and brightens and Electro is wildly trembling with the new, foreign rush of energy. “I thought you were smarter than this.” He says, a new record for most words he’d ever said to Soonyoung, ever. “Destruction is a _part_ of me, Spider-man.”

Soonyoung doesn’t panic or lunge at him. If anything, Soonyoung is only sincerely regretful.

“Sadly, I was banking on you saying that.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 _Black Cat has long departed Hell’s Kitchen. Soonyoung is still at a loss for a solution, though, even with Black Cat’s help. He stares at the folder in his hand. This can’t_ just _be it._

_He turns the last page over and sees an envelope taped to it. As expected of Black Cat. In what seems to be Black Cat’s handwriting, it reads:_

Might come in handy. Not sure what it does. That’s your nerdy job.

               Be careful with this. I disagree with you, but I don’t want you _dead_ , for fuck’s sake.

               P.S: Don’t worry. This isn’t the one I promised not to take. :-)

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

_“Theoretically, of course.”_

_“Theoretically.” The image of Wonwoo on Soonyoung’s laptop repeats. “_ If _you had a Chitauri battery.”_

_“Which I don’t, by the way.”_

_“Which you don’t._ Of course _you don’t. I’m not suspicious at all. Right. Well, I don’t think any of the strongest tech we have today can handle it. Stark Industries might have something, but it’s stuff for Iron Man’s sole use, you know? In case of the end of the world part five and all.” Wonwoo continues, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “As for the ‘theoretical’ mutant electrical capacitor man… I’m not sure. Can I meet them first?” He jokes._

_“Ah, thought so.” Soonyoung mumbles. “Still worth a shot, though.”_

_Wonwoo squints. “What is? What’s ‘_ worth a shot _’?”_

_“Thank you, Wonwoo!” Soonyoung vibrantly says, right before he ends the Skype call._

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

In Electro’s fist is the same chip Soonyoung found in the envelope Black Cat gave him. It’s the theoretical Chitauri battery he promised Wonwoo he _didn’t_ have, and it's the one thing that can hopefully overcharge Electro, if Soonyoung’s theory stands true. And he wishes so _hard_ that it does. For everyone. Shock flashes on Electro’s indistinguishable eyes when he realizes he’d fallen into Soonyoung’s trap.

Soonyoung wastes no time making a run for it to avoid the impending blast, but the explosion ripples outward faster than his feet can carry him. He’s able to swing himself outside the hall in record time, but the tail-end of the energy surge still reaches him—

He crashes onto the ground, his surroundings blinding, ears ringing.

Slowly, he descends into unconsciousness.

 

 

* * *

 

 

A blurry mass of swimming colors and blinding light are the only things that spill into view when Soonyoung’s eyes gradually open. Everything is distant— far-off, _intangible_. He feels like his head’s been split open, and the rest of his body isn’t much better off; the rest of him is numb, as if the other parts of him don’t even exist and he’s just some abstract thing, floating in space.

This is heaven, right? Soonyoung imagined it to be grander, with brass instruments and clouds and stuff, but this is fine, too.

“You’re awake.”

His hearing clears. A familiar voice jolts him awake— the smooth, calming timbre pulls him all the way out the chasm of his hallucinations. He sits up in haste, and a violent cough rises in his throat at the sudden motion.

“Easy, easy.” Seokmin says, gently guiding Soonyoung to lay back on the pillows.

Soonyoung takes in his surroundings, and it… oddly seems like the real world. Blank white walls, a sterile smell, faint beeping noises. He surveys the room the best he can in his current state, and notes that he and Seokmin are alone. “Where am I?” He croaks.

“S.H.I.E.L.D hospitalization.” Seokmin answers, pulling a chair closer and taking a seat right by Soonyoung’s bedside. “By the way, those agents scare the crap out of me. There are like twelve of them outside this very room. Are they even people? My theory is that they’re robots. Or aliens.”

“That’s your theory for most things.” Soonyoung’s laugh comes out silent and groggy, but the smile on his tired face is bigger than it ought to be, considering how shitty he feels. He faces Seokmin, sleepily examining Seokmin’s tousled hair and his bangs falling over his forehead, his necktie loose around his neck, his suit jacket open and all wrinkled. Soonyoung starts to remember that night in little fragments.

“Did I win?” Soonyoung asks, in a small voice.

“Yeah.” Seokmin says softly, proud. “Yeah, you did.”

“JeonCorp isn’t shutting down. They’re probably too rich to be hurt by this, and it’ll take a while before they run operations again, but they will. Wonwoo’s with his family right now. They’re all safe.” Seokmin explains, watching the quiet relief begin to soften Soonyoung’s features. “There were no casualties. Electro even survived the explosion and is detained somewhere only S.H.I.E.L.D knows.”

Soonyoung feels... pure joy, he thinks.

Soonyoung has _done_ it, again, and as it was happening it seemed like he wouldn’t be able to even if he risked his life. But as Seokmin had just told him, he pulled through. Against all odds—all the _impossible_ odds—Soonyoung pulled through. He settles against his pillows, visibly content.

“ _But—”_

Soonyoung stiffens at this; he’s anxious at the promise of some sort of catch or compromise.

“—they’re also wondering how you got the Chitauri battery from S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters.”

“ _What_?” Soonyoung’s voice cracks. He’s about to defend himself, and _justly_ , too, but he thinks of Black Cat’s terms and begrudgingly concedes to covering for the guy. He settles for a feeble: “With my genius.”

He’s going to get a lecture, at best, from whoever is the director of S.H.I.E.L.D right now. He doesn’t have to, if he can skirt around them like he usually does. It takes careful planning that Soonyoung will deal with later.

Right now, however, he wishes so hard that one of those S.H.I.E.L.D agents would barge in to break this silence. The silence is so thick it almost isn’t immaterial— it can almost be felt on your skin, creeping, crawling, and unwanted. There is _something_ they’re skipping over here. Soonyoung isn’t sure what exactly it is among the number of things he and Seokmin have successfully avoided thus far, but Seokmin seems to have something to start with. He’s biting his lip. Soonyoung tilts his head, questioning.

“So…” Seokmin says. “…you’re Spider-man, huh?”

Soonyoung clasps his hands together, his gaze shifting away from Seokmin. He coughs.

“Yup.”

The air is suffocating. Soonyoung wants so badly to dispel all this out of place awkwardness and steer them away from serious talk, but his smart mouth unexpectedly has nothing witty to say. It’s uncomfortable, and the big reveal—no matter how casual it’s been painted to seem—should have loosened the tightness in his chest, but it doesn’t do anything; it only pressures Soonyoung to say more. A feeling is niggling at him, and since he couldn’t express it all the other times, Soonyoung ends up blurting: “I’m sorry.”

There’s a couple of things to be sorry for. Soonyoung doesn’t list them off— there’s no need. The air remains suffocating and unpleasant until Seokmin speaks.

“For saving my life? _Twice_?” Seokmin says. “You gotta stop selling yourself short, bud.”

That sounds familiar. The words Soonyoung has said himself sound so comforting in Seokmin’s voice that Soonyoung manages a small—maybe even modest—smile. “Disillusioned? Underwhelmed?” Soonyoung jokes.

“Me? Why would I be?”

Soonyoung shrugs. “Now that you know the Spider-man you love so much is just me.”

“I admire Spider-man.” He tells him, keeping their gazes locked. He pauses. “I _love_ you.”

What.

He _can’t_ have heard that right.

Soonyoung breathes out a laugh. “Huh.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m dead, right? That’s what this is. Yeah. I’m dead.”

“You’d rather be _dead_?” Seokmin scoffs. “Okay, so I was reading the mood all wrong.”

“It’s not you. It’s just that this isn’t the real world,” replies Soonyoung, matter-of-factly. He opens his eyes and contradictory to his claim, everything is still there, in-tact and unchanged. “And I don’t want anything to do with love from Not Real Seokmin.” He’s speaking with such a dopey, self-assured grin that Seokmin can’t even feel offended.

“I’m real.” Seokmin gently takes one of Soonyoung’s hands from where they’re nervously clasped. Soonyoung lets him lace their fingers together. Soonyoung likes how warm it feels; likes how slender and long Seokmin’s fingers are on his stubbier, smaller ones.

“This is real.” Seokmin says. “You’re Spider-man, you’re alive, you saved New York _again_ , and I—”

Soonyoung blinks at him, waiting for him to finish.

He _can’t_. He can’t bring himself to. “Great. Now, I can’t say it anymore.”

Ducking his head in embarrassment, Seokmin bursts in laughter that’s directed at himself. His head is bowed on the side of hospital bed, and Soonyoung can’t see what face he’s making, but he sees the tip of Seokmin’s ears go red and that gives him enough of an idea. Soonyoung smiles. Overcome with fondness, Soonyoung doesn’t fight the sigh that escapes his lips. Neither does he fight the urge to use his free hand to tuck some of Seokmin’s hair behind a warm ear. “I love you.” Soonyoung finds himself saying against the deafening sound of his own heartbeat.

And it’s…

Simple.

It’s so _simple_. Soonyoung has been fucked up over this for so long for _nothing_. He feels so light. He says it; plain, bare, no embellishments whatsoever, and only then does something feel like it’s been raised and taken off his shoulders. Seokmin lifts his head upon hearing him.

“Please don’t cry,” is the first thing Soonyoung tells him when their eyes meet again.

“I’m not gonna.” Seokmin replies, sounding and looking exactly like the way he does when he’s warding off tears. “If I do, the S.H.I.E.L.D agents are going to find out I’m human, and they won’t accept me into their fold just in case I have to go undercover for you.”

It’s _ridiculous_ and Soonyoung can’t tell with Seokmin if it’s even said just to be funny because _you never know_ , but Soonyoung laughs that weird, charming laugh of his nonetheless. Pain shoots up the muscles of his body, a reaction to his sudden laughter, causing him to groan and smack at Seokmin’s shoulder. “ _Ouch._ Stop. Stop making me laugh. It hurts when I laugh.”

Seokmin sheepishly grins. “Okay. Sorry. I’ll just… sit here in silence.”

They stay like that, Seokmin by Soonyoung’s bed, their hands linked. It isn’t too long until the weary Seokmin soundly falls asleep. Soonyoung doesn’t return to the calm embrace of sleep until way after, but Soonyoung not once removes his hand from Seokmin’s hold.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Some time has passed since Soonyoung had finished recuperating. Granted, it didn’t take too long. (What took longer was the discussion he had with the director of S.H.I.E.LD.) The night cityscape is painted in vibrant colors provided by its many lights, and these colors dance, reflecting on Seokmin’s awed eyes. Soonyoung fondly watches him admire the city, his hands tucked into the hoodie he wore.

“I’ve never been this high up before.” Seokmin says, taking in the view, the sensation of cold air fanning at his face. “Or maybe I have, but not via webslinging, for sure.”

Soonyoung walks up to lean over the fence, peeking down at the lit-up streets. “When I first discovered my powers I went here.” He reminisces. “A week after, Wonwoo discovered my powers and my Captain America undies.”

From behind him, Soonyoung feels Seokmin slowly slip his arms around his waist. Soonyoung’s automatic response is to rest his hands atop Seokmin’s and settle back into Seokmin’s warm hold with a content sigh.

“No way,” replies Seokmin, sounding amazed. “ _I_ have Captain America undies, too.”

Soonyoung gasps. “We’re meant to be!”

It makes Seokmin hold him the least bit tighter. He nuzzles where Soonyoung’s shoulder and neck meet, chuckling into it. Soonyoung can feel Seokmin’s smile against his skin.

“Hey, wait. Isn’t this mine?” Seokmin asks, tugging on the sleeve of Soonyoung’s hoodie.

Soonyoung turns in Seokmin’s embrace and drapes his arms over Seokmin’s shoulders— it’s as good as his reply. His lips are curled upwards when he softly, _briefly_ presses them against Seokmin’s. Seokmin forgets about the question he’d just posed, immediately concerned with the feather-like tingle of his lips instead, already leaning ever-so-slightly and carefully forward to catch Soonyoung’s lips again.

(Soonyoung clearly doesn’t want to return the hoodie.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 _Car after car come to stop by the school’s entrance where best friends Soonyoung and Wonwoo idly stood, waiting. The number of cars dwindle significantly after just the first ten minutes of waiting. To pass the time, Soonyoung is catching Wonwoo up on the episodes of this new sci-fi thriller Wonwoo had missed during his family’s week off in Paris and Lourdes; he’s zealous and animated in his fevered retelling of what is quote-unquote “_ the _most well-constructed time travel episode on television ever.”_

_“It only has one season order and hasn’t been picked up though, so I wouldn’t be too hopeful for a season 2.” Soonyoung ends his rant on a somber note._

_Wonwoo hums, probably the only one who would ever realize why this news is worth being bummed out over. “What can you do? It’s on a Thursday night timeslot. It’s ‘_ inaccessible _’ to the public’s taste.”_

 _Soonyoung and Wonwoo had met up after Wonwoo landed that morning to watch Seokmin’s very first show with the Theater Club. The show, a rendition of_ Singin’ in the Rain _where Seokmin was the lead, had just finished, which is why all Soonyoung and Wonwoo had left to do was wait. They had sat in front, and prior to this show were never aware just how talented Seokmin was— they’d only ever hear about him rehearsing, but have never seen it themselves until tonight. Soonyoung also got him a bouquet, which Wonwoo found_ suspicious _, but he’s not going to drill Soonyoung on it._

_A car that Soonyoung’s never seen before pulls up in front of them. Regardless of the fact that he’s never seen it before, he’s certain it’s Wonwoo’s ride home, just by taking into consideration the car’s general posh, almost snooty exterior._

_“Is that your ride?” Soonyoung points it out to Wonwoo, who wasn’t looking._

_Wonwoo squints at where Soonyoung is pointing, reduced to virtual blindness by the absence of his glasses. He retrieves them from his bag, studies the car_ now _with more acceptable vision, and shrugs. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen it before.” He says._

_A man—George (the Jeons’ butler), if Soonyoung’s not mistaken—steps out of the car._

_Soonyoung turns to Wonwoo. His parents really bought_ another _car. In this economy._

_“Oh, I need to go.” Wonwoo says. “We could drop you off?”_

_Soonyoung shakes his head. “No, it’s okay. I’ll wait for Seokmin.”_

_Now, when Wonwoo squints, it’s at Soonyoung and it’s because he’s wary of something. Soonyoung doesn’t seem to pick up on it, and that, paired with Soonyoung’s pathetic, self-_ un _aware, love-struck demeanor makes Wonwoo let out a silent, disbelieving laugh._

_“What?” Soonyoung furrows his eyebrows._

_Wonwoo holds Soonyoung’s confused gaze—which doesn’t clear Soonyoung’s confusion at all, not that it was meant to— and eventually lets it go. It’s something to deal with another day or week or month, he decides. Hopefully, it doesn’t reach_ years. _“Nothing.” Wonwoo pulls down his sweater to adjust it and zips his bag closed. “See you tomorrow. Tell Seokmin I said goodnight.”_

_Soonyoung nods. “Sure. Bye, Wonwoo!”_

_Wonwoo also says his goodbye, descending the steps to the driveway where his car is, and is escorted inside. Soonyoung waves at the car as it drives off._

_A little after, Soonyoung spies Seokmin appear by the front doors of the school. Behind the glass, Seokmin waves at him with a goofy grin. Soonyoung finger-guns at him in response, and Seokmin does it back, right after he pushes the door open. Seokmin has changed out of his costume and into jeans and a comfy looking hoodie that says ‘24601’ on its front. He ruffles his own hair, getting the various hair products his mom used on him off the best he can, as he strides toward Soonyoung._

_“Where’d Wonwoo go?” Seokmin asks, observing the very much empty, Wonwoo-less school entrance._

_“His ride got here earlier.” Soonyoung replies, reaching to help Seokmin remove a piece of hardened gel that Seokmin keeps missing on his hair— he’s only able to use one hand; the other hand is occupied with the cheap bouquet Soonyoung got him. “He says goodnight, by the way.”_

_“Oh, thanks.” Seokmin says, running a hand through his smoothened hair. “Then I could walk you home.”_

_Soonyoung agrees, and the two walk down the steps together, the last to finally vacate the premises. They keep to the sidewalk, and there is barely a lull in the conversation whilst they trace the memorized path to the Kwon apartment. Somewhere along the way, Soonyoung tells Seokmin how amazing he did, because he’s not sure how much Seokmin has heard this truth today, and if he had, in fact, heard it a lot, then Soonyoung justifies reiterating it by the simple need to see the joy widen his smile just a bit and crinkle his eyes. (He does it to see how Seokmin shyly ducks his head, too.)_

_They've covered most of the way when Seokmin feels a small, cold wetness graze his neck. He pauses, touching his skin. Soonyoung stops in his tracks, too, curiously watching him. Beholding the dark sky, Seokmin puts his hand out, and sure enough, his palm catches a couple of raindrops. It’s raining._

_When he finishes carefully stuffing the bouquet in his bag along with all his other paraphernalia to keep it from getting too wet, he glances at Soonyoung and notes the small shiver that racks his body. Soonyoung’s wearing a thin t-shirt and shorts, hardly spared from the cool night air as it is— what more rain?_

_Before the rain can pick up, Seokmin strips out of his hoodie right away, wordlessly handing it to Soonyoung, leaving himself in a cotton shirt._

_Soonyoung keeps it in his hands and does not make a move to wear it. He tries to hand it back to Seokmin. “It’s okay—”_

_Soonyoung is rudely cut off by the frighteningly loud thunder that rips through the air and startles them both._

_They share a look. An “_ oh, fuck _” look. They still have some ways to go before they make it to Soonyoung’s, and there’s not nearly enough covered walkways in the area— the complete misfortune and stupidity of the situation they find themselves in plucks laughter from them._

_Soonyoung can’t complain. He drapes the hoodie over his head like a veil, bracing for the downpour. He grabs Seokmin’s wrist, dragging him through the rain with him. Their steps are hurried and they create splashes on the puddles on concrete. Miraculously, neither of them slip on the wet surfaces. And the only reason Seokmin lags behind Soonyoung is because he’s laughing a lot harder._

_They regress into early childhood in the rain. Soonyoung reckons he hasn’t ever been this easily excited since he had his braces taken off a month ago. And Soonyoung recalls being_ very _excited for that, so this is telling._

 _The raining has let up considerably by the time they reach Soonyoung’s apartment complex. It goes from what was like a storm to a mere, atmospheric drizzle. Its pitter-patters on the roof is oddly even calming— therapeutic. Soonyoung’s wet, but his hair is mostly dry, and some spots on his clothes are less wet than others. Seokmin, on the other hand, is_ thoroughly _soaked. His shirt clings to his skin, and the strands of his damp hair clump together as if he was newly-bathed._

_“So. Here we are.” Seokmin gestures to the quaint, recently repaired front door. There is just one light, but it’s good as busted. Outside, the sounds clear— the rain drops halt, no longer hitting against the roof._

_“Yup.” Soonyoung responds. He’s rocking on his heels, gripping tight on his backpack straps. There’s this inconvenient_ distance _between them, but it’s nothing if Seokmin leans a little, which he seems to be doing. Soonyoung’s heartbeat ups the pace, fast and loud within the confines of his chest— Seokmin’s going to kiss him._

_He doesn’t._

_He slinks back into his own space, and he makes it hard to tell if Soonyoung was just imagining things. Seokmin scratches at the back of his head, offering Soonyoung a close-lipped smile. “Goodnight.” He says, opting to seize Soonyoung’s hand and give it a squeeze._

_“Goodnight.” Soonyoung squeezes back. He hesitantly lets his hand slip, and steps back closer to the door. “Thanks.” For braving the rain with him, the hoodie on his head right now. There’s a couple of things to be thankful for. Soonyoung doesn’t list them off— there’s no need._

_“No problem.”_

_As Seokmin turns to leave, Soonyoung exclaims, “_ You’re my hero! _”_

_Seokmin sends one last grin over his shoulder—an infectious thing—before he departs. Soonyoung keeps the hoodie to his chest._

**Author's Note:**

> BELATED HAPPY BIRTHDAY SOONYOUNG ♡ was supposed to post this for his birthday, but internet was down and stuff (pd101 finals) happened
> 
> \- sorry i didn't write their names with their surnames last, it felt weird lol. also sorry i used spidey villains and stuff, i felt weird about forcing svt members into all roles too... ;_;  
> \- thanks so much for reading!!!!


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